Poetry (48)

Hello Escritori,

I’m not blogging actively in Ramadan but it might be best to tell you that I lost my job this week.I just couldn’t keep on top of the work and it wasn’t the right place for me.

Ramadan is a spiritual time that really melts you down to your essence and softens your heart so I’ve been cocooned in the peace of knowing that this is a test from God, and a test from God always has in it the gift of a lesson and the seed of success. God is all about leading you to success!

I also dreamt that my intercom rang and it was me. I was calling myself from the future apparently. Future Me didn’t let anything slip, she just seemed nervous as to whether or not I’d believe her. I thought I was becoming delusional and then I woke up. I was glad to be sane, it’s just I’ve been there before obviously, hence the pause, like:

 Am I delusio… Oh no, carry on, my mistake. Real life. Ha. 

I would only ever phone myself to tell me that I was making A BIG FAT MISTAKE of some kind but Future Me seemed tentative and maternal. I’m applying to jobs with less fear of failure. Seriously, Me, do you literally want me to help myself because I didn’t help myself?

Praying it wasn’t about that squidgy muscle in my chest which sensibly pumps blood and doesn’t get involved in extra-curriculars. And yet… this week’s poem.

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If

If I were

To throw caution to the wind,

Like grain,

What would I gain?

What would I reap?

I’m certain it wouldn’t be

More of the same.

 

Would it be merely

Drawing back a sheet

Uncovering a harmony

Alongside a stranger

The miracle and the danger

Of passion

Unleashed?

 

For year on year

Just this way

Men and women

Are cut down like wheat.

It it just destruction

That somehow savours sweet?

 

There are only two kinds

Of people in the world:

Those that crave the bug

And the bit.

 

The bit are the ones

With the knowledge

Of pain,

But who are once again

Craving a hit.

 

(© Copyright Pola Negri, 11/05/2016.)

 

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