I didn’t believe, but persevered

Hard looking into darkest night

Sure daylight would, eventually

Restore confidence, banish piqued

Insecurity – aspirations

Always yields gilded hope, with that

Spring in my step good to be alive

Especially when our Moon depart

And her son’s power is blunted

 

Sundays had, forever been home time

Almost criminal, when I lived too

Far away – lunar influence

Confined to sporadic, lectured

Phone calls – her husband hovering

Somewhere behind her, I could always

Tell, just by the way she spoke to me

And how she kept telling me to call

Back later, when I’m not too busy

 

I still hear her shouting me awake

From deepest sleep, very convincing

Too, sometimes jump up expecting

To see her standing over me

Like she used to do whenever

I slept in – so I’d get to college

On time for my early seminars

She sometimes knew my timetable

Much better than me, because she cared

 

In later life, she doted grandkids

Saw the glint in her eyes when my

Jealousy subsided – she kissed teeth

But annoyance was tempered by

Mother’s glow, as proof I loved her so

Probably why I visited late

At night, when sick bed merged into

Sleeps slight reprieve, and mind melds made

Me feel exactly why I grieved

 

Of course, she’s still here – in that corner

Parcelled off with a no-entry sign

Saying, “don’t care,” making me think long

Followed by salty trickling tears

Which I refuse to wipe away

Until I taste the pent-up bile

Slowly transporting elements

Pervaded by – when I was a child

And – only when alone – I still cry.

 

Epilogue …

The scientists murmur and grumble

Disconsolate dissent, having no

Tripod, or hope to support themselves

Poetry, victorious in

This administrative advent

Dons ruler-ship and precedence

Still they point to many historic

Advances, claiming the lion’s share

Of progressive, civilised social

Adventures: test tube babies and

Eradicated diseases

Condemning Poesy’s invisible

Tenure, failing to realise

Science has to organise and

Centralise communicative

Rapture – so without Poetry

Science has no future, as Poesy

laughs to scorn their bleating and failures

Without Poetry, Science has no voice

Judgment’s verdict, is: misadventure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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