Between Shit and Serenity

I can say with all honesty that
I am grateful for what I have,
but I also grieve for what I have lost;
mobility, independence,
that sense of purpose,
a busyness, some of it possibly
extrinsic, but it led me to become
who I was; it defined me

and now all that’s changed
and sometimes I feel lost,
like a small child losing its
mother in a large store,
frightened and alone.

So I listen to words of wisdom
that tell me I am not my body,
that it’s my spirit that counts
and truly lives, which I know
is the essential truth,
and simple to grasp when
I sit cosily with a heat pack
against my back, coffee and cake,
and practice Dharma,

until I am reminded that I have
an appointment within the next hour
and I have to stand up, get ready,
walk, negotiate uneven paths,
heavy doors, awkward people.

I do not see my body as a bonus
and find myself flitting endlessly
every day
between shit and serenity.


I Never Liked Running Anyway

You appear one by one,
Blackadder in Spandex.
hands on hips,
whole breaths,
calf stretches,
Garmin set;
discuss PBs.
sub one-thirties,
possible rain –
and with a puff of
deliciously fresh
morning air,
you are gone.

I brew fresh coffee,
(strange how it smells
better than it tastes),
settle down, cat on lap
to read “Thought for the
Day”, reflect on the
wonder of things and the
anomaly of my life, when

there you all are,
strangers at the window,
hands on hips,
calf stretches, (lunges even),
Garmin checked;
discuss muscle strain,
tendon rupture,
shin splints, and a strong
possibility that running may
be out of the equation
for the next few weeks.

I don’t understand, I never will.
But I am appeased; I have a
cosy chair, coffee, a thought
for the day. the purr of my cat
and yes, the uncertainty of life.

But what I actually do miss
is the choice.


Fall(ing) Leaves


Tinged with weariness of defeat,
they cling to a life that’s done
and wait.
Scudding clouds pass,
swift with purpose.

They fall,
and as their melancholy
greets the earth, rest.
They, too, still have purpose.

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