Channels

Channels

for Shay

There you are
Clear
As air
Ice cold as a winter morning in Central Park
Or snow-bound on the mainstreet of Oslo

I am crying and it’s not me
It’s you
I am channelling you

You are cold
To me you are cold
You bring no sweet release
Only sustenance
Soul food

Your pain I can taste
I am in your pain but I am not of your pain
I have not caused your pain
I am the art of your pain
The overflow of your agony

I am the wasteful world of your Christ ecstasy

You bring you

You send you

I am you but do not become you

I do not ‘become’ anyone (that’s a joke)

Yet I am your adornment
For now
The bucket for your ectoplasmic superfluity

Afterwards
I just subside
Subdued
Emptyish

I think and suspect you don’t even know

My tears
However
Are of you
For you
By you
And
Are
You

Yes, there is a manic me
Yes, there is a melancholic too
Yes to this is me
I am what I am
(Sings Harry)
I am what you are too

And
Proud

To be of you.

Tuesday, 29 December 2009