he disliked the coat he had been given
but wore it because he had no other
it had been made with love
and given with love
but only when it was worn through
did he learn to love it himself
E. Best: lyrics | fictions | episodes
he disliked the coat he had been given
but wore it because he had no other
it had been made with love
and given with love
but only when it was worn through
did he learn to love it himself
I open the door and release them
one by one
they come to the door and I watch them go
in pale December sun
and some of them are beautiful
and some of them are old
and some of them are ugly
some as cold as stone
and some of them are holy
[first posted Jan 3, 2016]
after it was finished
they planted a garden
on the rubble
that’s what you do with rubble
plant a garden
often his walk took him to the same spot
as if to an assignation
a clearing in the trees
where he expected nothing
and received nothing
while retaining in his heart
the most foolish of emotions
the feeling that he would be healed
as easily as taking off an old jacket
and going back to find another
which is fanciful
but there is more to life than one knows
and more to the dreams of the broken
than one might imagine
I threw my arms out wide
to greet the day
now I start each morning
in this way
it scares the hell
out of my dog
but it makes the coffee
taste better
in the old days
I used to heal life’s little ills
by imagining a secluded garden
where I took restorative waters
from an old brass cup
these days
I’m at the Chelsea Flower Show
drinking from a golden chalice
walking in discomfort down Bell Lane
I finally accept my infirmity
with this responsibility
I am no longer its victim
dark and cloudy the sky
but the hills are ablaze with lights
finding my feet once again
in Bell Lane