(on good riddance from Heidi)
I do begin to love my solitude:
the space is freed from the annoying clatter
of shallow friends and their empty chatter
is now filling with the words within,
becoming then my air.
With my skin
I feel the comfort of a quiet touch
of realms above this world, the magic thrill
of certitude that no-one can snatch
that I’m my own and I’m needed still
not as a tea provider, a listener of tales
about shopping bargains, or the nails,
and their extensions – all these empty boasts
that Heidi, sole, in perfection hosts.
She filled my house as a multitude
when, uninvited, she high-jacked my time
without qualms, no shame to intrude
and self-imposed ‘friendship’ (so-called)
in her naive belief that she enthralled
me with her dull and draining, dreary presence,
that I was tolerating for some reason,
displaying to my inner voice a treason.
And now I’m considering as presents
the rare prized minutes (Heidi-free)
when silence at long last belongs to me.
This silence chimes with rhymes, this silence calls
and - like a crystal-clear lake, where fish abounds,
it’s full of words - with swiftness of their shoals,
with opportunities of voicing silence’ sounds.
26 August 2011