Trust, itself. will widen gaze

Inside my heart, this sacred place
Where freely mingle truth and grace
Where friends and enemies alike
Are viewed as equals for love’s sake

Inhabited by deeper self
In touch with  soul that in me dwells
I leave  my failures  gladly here
I will not live in morbid fear

I don’t insult the force divine
By pride in any good that’s mine
For willpower cannot birth virtue
But  can  attend to the eye’s  view

By trusting in   the vast unknown
We turn attention from the known.
Our eyes relax and  gaze without
To  bring proportion  to our doubts

Trust, itself. will widen gaze
And enable us to find our ways.
With terror, fear or loss of pride
Constriction comes to human eyes.

Perception is the highest good
By what we see, we choose our road.
The blind rush like the swine to hell
In patient, watchfulness let’s dwell.

Life  may  be the flood plain and the flow

He has done  with me, his earthly woman now
Gone away as dust motes dance in air.
I must live, I wonder where and how

To the fiercer visions, my eye goes
All is snatched while we  seem mute and  bare
He has done  with me, his earthly woman now

What is this killing Nature, it does cow
The mighty King, the princess blue-eyed, fair
I must live, I wonder when and how

Life is  may  be the flood plain and the flow
Emperors are killed by   those who dare
Who has gone from me, a widow now?

The Ouse drops from the Pennines and it grows
Until it  drowns the earth,  the Minster’s prayers
Must I   stay  on grievous tears afloat?

Oblivious to the people and the stares
Oblivious to  this   sleep and its nightmares
He did  for me, his earthly  female spouse
I  could not swim, my heart  sank from the blow

 

The tarmac heats as if it wants to leave

Near my destination my mind swerves
The object of my  passion’s hard to catch
In a fast car   bending roads to   curves

Do we ever  overcome our love?
Do we think the next one  is our match?
Near my destination my mind swerves

I am thinking of the words I heard
When the door was left upon the latch
Shall my car  grind roads into deep curves?

With the passion my  heart  leaps and heaves
The Sacred Heart was mentioned , a faux pas
Near my  start and  end ,my mind  will swerve

The tarmac heats as if it wants to leave
The rubber on the tyres  screams at last
In a fast car   bending roads to   curves

We mix up the future and the past
The future is not written nor surpassed
Near my destination my mind swerves
In its fast car   bending roads to   curves

 

 

Then the  creatures wild may be allured

Sitting in the garden with no thoughts
Empty minded,listening to the birds
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

Activity and purpose may be taught
Not silence and deep listening  beyond words
Sitting in the garden with no thoughts

Creative moments  cannot yet be bought
We think upon the  conversations heard
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

The mind is best when muscles are not taut
Then the  creatures wild may be allured
Sitting in the garden with  these thoughts

What  arrives is rarely what we sought
Pain and feelings darker may occur
Ideas rise up like fishes to be caught

Relaxation  makes the  visions blurred
This is not the end of the affair
Sitting in the garden with my  thoughts
Ideas rise up and dance and then are caught.

 

 

Jacquiline Wilson

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/feb/06/jacqueline-wilson-interview

“It is strange,” says Wilson as she gets up to leave, “that sometimes people assume the worst of children if they come from poor families. I remember being astonished when I took my daughter to a party given by her schoolfriend’s parents. They lived in a lovely, big house very near the block of council flats where I grew up. The mother was very friendly to me, and said how pleased she was that our daughters were friends because obviously she could have nothing to do with ‘those dreadful scary rough children from the council flats’. I didn’t want to embarrass her by saying that I had once been one of those very children.”