Love and a Jedi Interceptor

“It’s not called a Something Interceptor,
it’s a Jedi Interceptor!”.
He laughed,
shaking his five year old head
at my bewilderment of
all things Star Wars.

Whatever its name,
it is the reason
we sat together on the sofa
for the whole weekend
apart from trips out here and there.
I was given the privileged position
of Lightsaber Holder;
I learned how R2D2 was built,
how Anekin once fell into lava
and lost all his hair
(thankfully not forever).

But what I learned most
was how the love of a child
is set apart from any other,
its unconditional quality,
its gritty honesty,
its patience.
I think Star Wars movies
could well find their way
onto my bucket list;
of course I would have to
watch them with him.



The garden is a timeless world
with no map;
I simply lean a little more
to the right or left
as did Cezanne
and see it all.
I sit among the flowers
alone but not lonely;
they have become friends,
the kind who stay around,
forgive and maybe even forget,
keep with you
when fear grips and
nothing makes sense.
Bees forage without regrets;

I can only move forward,
thoughts now infused with gratitude
for the privilege of life.
They become soft,
muted with warmth,
welcome antithesis of
yesterday’s sharp edges.
Elated birdsong
disperses the stillness and
although I have no idea
who or what is holding me together
I feel safe,
for today at least,
and that is enough.

“Here on the river’s verge, I could be busy for months without changing my place, simply
leaning a little more to the right or left” – Paul Cezanne

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