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Love’s Invitation

It’s 15 years since Dave & I got together as a couple.    In our first year, we used to joke that if we had each put a personal ad in the paper, we would have never chosen each other. ‘Taciturn Geordie be-bop jazz musician in early 50’s‘ and ‘Lively, stroppy, untidy North American feminist in her late 20’s’ would not have been an obvious match!  Yet here we are and those  differences  are a just a light counterpoint on the surface of our relationship.  David Whyte,  the poet and author talks about the invitation that is at the heart of any true relationship.  This invitation, he explains, is felt not only one to another but to the horizon of the future that both participants first intuited and then promised to themselves. This beckoning invitational horizon is continually kept alive by the depth and profundity and heartfelt nature of the invitation made one to another on the present ground of the relationship.’  By some strange miracle, against the odds and through the grumpy, irritable fed-up times, we’ve managed to keep on extending this invitation.  In the most concrete way this happened when Dave agreed, despite it not being in his interests or a great desire of his at the time, to father a child with me, 24 odd years after his first child had been born – prioritising me and the future, inviting an unknown future in on the present ground.  I’m  feel very blessed and grateful to be in a relationship and family where I know without a doubt that I am the centre of two people’s lives – Dave and our son Sam.   The three poems below are written on the theme of love & family life. 

 Loves Thrives
 
me and DaveI’m running my finger along the embroidered stitch
That runs lovingly, haphazardly through the patchwork quilt
covering the bed where we made, then birthed Sam.
 
Here amongst the detritus of our lives;
the overflowing laundry basket,
bags of old clothes for the charity shop
hanging on the hook by the door,
a hallway full of shoes, boots, and
 
books. of course books everywhere
piled by/under/in the bed and beside the fireplace;
 
in that drawer of miscellany holding keys to doors that
belong to us no longer, 3d glasses, old mobile phones,
 
lastly not forgetting the dark cupboard in the loft holding
jetsam and flotsam from times long ago (such an obvious
metaphor for my neurosis hiding within the corner of my mind)
 
Love thrives, cross-stitching its way through
this chaotic fabric of our life.
 
Crossing Longsands
It could be mid-winter
Not August, here on
Longsands, under cloudy skies
Walking into the wind blowing
Off the North Sea.
 
Slightly ahead now, I look back
At you & our son looking into
A rock pool, picking up sea shells
Checking out barnacles
 
Heart expanding
The tears in my eyes
Are not just from the
Salty wind.
I can’t believe I’ve
Taken this love
for granted for so long.
 
Imagine….
If we had just
Kept our heads down
Ignored the signs
Minded the (age) gap.
Yet here we are,
An unlikely trio
crossing Longsands
Together.
 
Spoiling for a fight
I’m weary.
Tonight, Londonrain drops in puddle
is cold, damp and I’m not
well dressed for the day,
not accepted summer’s
finally ebbed out to sea.
 
The bags hanging
awkwardly off my shoulder,
weigh down heavily and
the underwire of my well
worn bra is digging,
into my left breast.
 
The key sticks in the lock,
Turn it this way & that
I’m in. (finally)
And I remember now.
I didn’t do the washing up.
Which I had promised to do.
That I didn’t.
Old arguments about the
house work replay in my mind
on a loop so that
when I reach the top
of the stairs,
I’m spoiling for a fight…..
 
In the kitchen you stand at the sink
washing all those dishes
that I should have done
I’m prepared for battle,
verbal fisticuffs ready.Before I can even flash my eyes,
here you are,
in front of me, arms outstretched,
to wrap round me,
so I lean fully in.
My head fits neatly in the
hollow just above your collarbone,
my breasts scrunched against your chest.

You say ‘mmmm, you smell nice -
like a woman.’
‘What does a woman smell like then?’
I am undone, defences peeled from me.
‘Like you, like you’ you reply
If I were a cat, I’d purr.
Yes, I would purr.

***************

my precious relationship, my precious family http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/12/daily-prompt-my-precious/

Categories: poetry Tags: ,
  1. December 12, 2013 at 1:32 pm

    Lovely. All ways lovely. I call down an extra blessing upon the three of you.

  1. December 12, 2013 at 3:20 pm
  2. December 12, 2013 at 3:38 pm
  3. December 12, 2013 at 4:49 pm
  4. December 12, 2013 at 4:56 pm
  5. December 12, 2013 at 5:20 pm
  6. December 12, 2013 at 5:25 pm
  7. December 12, 2013 at 5:47 pm
  8. December 12, 2013 at 6:36 pm
  9. December 12, 2013 at 6:36 pm
  10. December 12, 2013 at 7:20 pm
  11. December 13, 2013 at 2:10 am
  12. December 13, 2013 at 1:00 pm
  13. December 18, 2013 at 12:23 pm
  14. January 7, 2014 at 1:23 pm
  15. February 28, 2014 at 8:45 am

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