Isn't it funny
how things which are happy for some people
are for others sad,
they may make you smile
or hurt even more.
A girl walking out of hospital
wrist in plaster, hanging onto her parent's arm,
Signatures already scribbled in marker pen
an accident, but no harm done.
Or a girl left outside,
watching the body bag go to the mortuary,
each time with
one of her family inside,
not moving an inch
not being able to cry.
To the eye flowers are pretty
if your feelings agree,
but primroses will never be for me
for they make me remember...
Visions of a hand
a little girl's hand, so small,
giving one to the young man hugging her so tight
never wanting to let go,
his tears watering the pale petals
as policemen move in
handcuffs cutting off contact,
confused eyes watching him leave,
they march him away
the crumpled primrose falling from his hand
lying in the pathway
like the girl
left behind.
Christmas is a happy time
a time of celebration and giving,
though there's always a shadow of darkness
a black pit that consumes the smiles and gifts
even years on from now.
A mother and daughter
off shopping, out late,
having an evening of fun
until something comes
out of the darkness
into the night,
a mugger couldn't get what he wanted
so he had to take away
a life.
How many times
have you been to the seaside
with ice-cream, paddling and sand?
You don't think the ocean's vicious
with treacherous rocks hidden under the water
a deceptive sight
on the surface looking calm
and inviting
you don't think it could be
but it is.
Cliffs edging the whole way round
signs warning you to stick to the path,
but what if you don't want to,
what if you deliberately stray
to the teetering stones
crumbling away
and go one step further
death a jump away,
what if you watched
someone leap straight off
with no shout, no scream,
the sea now his grave
a chilling water bed.
How would you feel
about the seaside then...
Cemeteries can be haunting
creepy, freaking you out,
or it could be
the only contact you have left
a strangely comforting feeling you get
out of holding your loved one's stone.
Days which are cloudy
overcast and grey
that's when you feel blue and down,
but not for me,
never for me,
it's when it's sunny and bright
I never feel the light
those are the days
the days which don't match my mood,
the days when I cry
rays of gold asking why,
isn't it funny how it's always warm
when someone dies,
and how it never rains
only shines
when I cry.
How odd it is that
when I hear an ambulance
I feel pain,
when I see a flower
I feel it again,
when I know Christmas is coming
I feel it the most,
when I catch the scent of the breeze
reminding me I'm by the coast,
when I can't hold it in any more
little things triggering my tears,
when people are puzzled asking me why
only they don't know
that those are the things
which make me cry.