Helen Harrison

Evening, and there is nothing
To tempt me indoors.

Warmed from a day spent in the sun;
I spin it on my fingertips,
Pass it, to my team-
Mates.

Scoring goals
Win rolls of respect. Talents
Swaying to the chants; that
Tribal-like victory dance.

Ball of mesmerising fire –
Football skills that inspire. Cool
Moves; dipping, diving,
Thriving, in the company,

Until friends slip away,
As they are called in –
One by one.

Alone, with a crimson sky;
The breath I take is sharp
Like loneliness,

As the night turns – flat.

1

On a Sunday in mid-summer
Right at the edge of the park
You come to me;

Talking future plans,
Shining eyes,
And a heart that dared.
We saw ourselves

Buying a car to travel
Down to the coast
Whenever we took the urge

All planned out under the elm
Of eager spreading roots.
Many seeds scattered

Ideas with wings on the breeze
Hope floating all the way
Towards the sea along winding
Open-windowed roads.

2

Smashed in spring – the last
Season you inhaled;
Lying singing on the back seat.

The front driver’s side was saved,
Letting me drive
To dreams that died.

Dreams have a way
Of coming at you by the front
And leaving by the back door.

I pass it now, the car
In the scrap yard
At the edge of the town
It’s only half now.

Why is it that the path
Has to mist before
We see ourselves,

Cracks and roots exposed
To an empty ditch
To reveal a broken stem;

Vulnerable, collapsing
Covered in isolation
And open to pain.

Maybe it is necessary for us
To suffer occasionally –
For compassion to remain;

Like a stunted tree, a trapped
Fly, before we can see
Through another’s eye.

My path has been mostly clear
Or as far as I can see
Alone, but never lonely.

Not intentionally
Do I fail to notice
A troubled mind,

If you fail to see me
When my mist approaches.
I won’t think you unkind.

‘Can you spare some change please’
He said; as she walked briefly past
‘Sorry for asking’ the remark that
Made her turn around and start
To rummage through her purse
For available odd coins; even
Staying beside him a while
To enjoy a brief exchange.

I wondered was it good?
Manners that had brought
On a sudden change of mind
And if there was now a new polite
Way of begging in cities these days
Where the average human population
Have delayed reactions to a fraction of
Society that is so different from the norm.

It bugged me at the beginning;
Relying on other people’s wells
To quench my thirst. My own
Myriad ran dry.

I crouched, over
Other people’s supplies;
Drawing up slowly, as
Droplets fell back down
Causing plopping sounds…

I watched as the ripples,
Awakened something inside
That cool shimmering rim.
Can’t begin to tell you
How it felt, after being
Empty for so long.