Rhyddid-Rhyddiaith-Cerdd

This arose when I was recapitulating my relationship with my father. I realised he was insecure and unable to express feelings. I was sent away from Zambia to boarding school in the UK aged 10 years and one day. I travelled back on my own, unaccompanied, at the end of term thus I had 150,000 air miles by the time I was 13 way back in the 1970s!!

———————————————————————-

Pinned

Like a butterfly

In the chair

By expectation’s

All

 

Bound

In the creeping vine

Of my story’s

Ne’er spoken

Word

 

Tithed

With the forgetful

Memory’s selected

Chocolate box

Surprise

 

Caged

In the late night

Re-runs

Of channel number

Five

 

Weighed down

By the cicatrice’s

Cicada’s itching

Twitch

 

Hooked

On a woven

Mayfly

Caster sugar

Thread

 

Caught

On the ethereal

Substance of nothing’s

Hanging

Hour

 

Now

Where

Must

I

Go?

 

In the carnival

Hall of mirrors

 

The picture of

A Zambezi dawn

 

Speaks its tale

Of broken trust

 

And builds the

“Good enough” question

 

High

 

All my deeds

Remain un-seam

 

Only dark

Is by others seen

 

Why this is

I do not know

 

In the other country

This is not so

 

To walk in the shadow

Of such a wood

 

To beat myself

For my own good?

 

This is a wound

That I must close

 

But is salt

My choice of prose?

 

Why it is

And what is when?

 

Why oh why

Does it matter so?

 

If I help you carry

Will you like me

Just

 

A little

 

If I listen to your

Tales of woe

Will you love me

Just

 

A little

 

If I behave as

I know I should

Will you

Not

Send me away again

 

If I do well in class

And on the field

Will you be

…proud

 

And will you tell me?

 

Will you

Not

Speak in scorn

Of what I do?

 

If I stand

Straight and tall

Will they love me?

….love me

Too?

 

So there it is

And with some tears

The partial picture

Of my fears

 

Now they’re out

One more time

I need to search

For peace of mind

 

Deep within

I find my gift

That sense of worth

To heal the rift

 

For to be an

Empty glass

Is a place

Where things can pass

 

Out they come

And in they flow

It makes things better

This I know

 

There it is

Another side

Of some use

This springtime tide

 

Round and round

The lifelong tale

The difficulty for me

In being, male.