I am done with editing myself.
To fit your pleasure
And to not ruffle the feathers
Of your plumage,
Or to rock your boat.
And I am done with limiting myself
And my perspectives
To never looking behind
your mantle, and your mask.
Or lifting the curtain.
Above all, I am done with limiting myself
Just because it’s what you do.
Work in progress. January 2020
Image: moonflower: Monoprint and digital – copyright Lucy K Wills 2018
Will you hark at that wind!
Rattling the bones of the world
Shaking the trees
Knocking on the doors and windows
Are we in?
And listen awhile
To the weather of the sea,
As it crosses the land
The birds are singing today
Louder than they should be
And as I walk through the wood
Stepping like a deer
To practice in case I ever have to run
For who can now say that we will never have to run
And because I can hear the birds
But they are singing today
Louder than they should
And though the sun
Teezes the gorse blossom out of bud
Thaws the frost
Spills amber gold coral branches across the sky
Wish for the birds not to nest too soon
In this false spring.
As I walk through the wood
Stepping like a deer
Is the real idolatry that we do not worship each other?
And truest heresy that we consider that we are not already perfect*
*though some assembly required
What is it inside them that drives some people to escalate,
to need to conquer to vanquish, and to obliterate in order to exist?
And others to resolve at all cost, beyond the self, beyond selfless
Why should it take such sacrifice to make peace
Almost as much as it does to make war
Not fighting, but vigilant,
Holding the line, holding our hearts
Holding our breath.
We are all as sacred than anything else in existence
but also no less ordinary.
That should be enough, for anyone.
If it’s not fighting to see that, is it the wrong war?
Image: Banksy placards, Stop the War March 2003
A poem for Poly Styrene, X Ray Spex. Love you, sister.
Who is Poly Styrene? 1979 documentary
Show me on the documentary where the man hurt you.
Which one of them was it that
Stole your music from you
Eroding your soul
Chipped away at your world until you had to:
Find another world to hide in
Lose yourself as one of many
Not mad but so hurt
So angry but not broken
Still looking to that future
To write that bright future
With a childs heart and an ageless face
Racing death itself to tell out
Racing death itself to spell out
Your songs belong to everyone,
Speaking truths that most people can’t quite hear
Speaking truths that most people can’t quite bear
All words copyright Lucy K Wills
images: unless stated, creative commons (CC BY-NC-SA) Lucy K Wills