AND SO, IT COMES AGAIN

And so, it comes again, that time of loneliness and hunger - when the streets are bitter-cold.

The time it is so clear that no one really wants you when you’re tired and getting old.

I tried so hard to keep the light of love alive within my heart,

I tried so hard to get myself a job and make a brand-new start.

I tried to keep my self-respect, despite the endless days of walking, - with no place to go.

I went from factory to factory and all they ever said was “No!”

I watch the happy shoppers underneath the garish lights, - so filled with Christmas cheer.

The wind cuts through me, but at least I begged enough to buy a sandwich and a beer.

I used to get some money from the state,

But then they stopped it when, one day, I turned up late.

I sold my watch a long, long time ago,

And now it’s just the kindness of the passers-by who keep me from Death’s gate.

I’m thinking this might be my last cold winter on these rain-soaked streets.

I’m old and worn like these old clothes, which hardly keep in any heat.

I am pretty sure I smell, but after all this time I can no longer tell.

If cleanliness is next to Godliness, - I guess I’m bound for Hell.

But then, I gave up on religion a few harsh years ago,

When my rich religious landlord threw me out into the snow.

I was once a man with pride who walked with shoulders broad and straight.

I stood with eyes that gleamed with pride beside the barracks gate.

I fought in wars that made me wonder if my loyalty had somehow been misplaced.

And then the fear that overtook me caused me to be cashiered from the army in disgrace.

 I got some work on zero hours and rented out a flat, but when austerity kicked in the work got thin and quickly ended that.

So, now I walk the streets - I once fought to defend,

And I call out to a God, whom I'm no longer sure exists, to let my suffering end.

Patrick W Kavanagh
27/11/2018
Image by Leroy Skalstad, Pixabay

When Tears Will Not Come

 Sometimes, we are frozen. We are frozen by grief and frozen by shock.

Perhaps, we feel that we are being strong. We are ‘holding it together’ for ourselves and those we love. We keep a tight grip on our emotions to get us through the loss of a loved one, a broken romance or the unexpected ending of our way of living. We harden our hearts and struggle on, while each day a little piece of us dies.

Tears must come. Without them, we will never release the pain and find healing. Until we let go of the anger, frustration and grief inside of us we will never be fully alive again. Ten years ago, I lost my wife and I fell into deep despair. I withdrew from life and my health began to fail. Each day, I died a little more inside.

Then one day, the first poem appeared from somewhere beyond my conscious mind. I believe that it was guidance from the spirit of my departed wife. Each poem brought tears. Each poem brought healing.

I was encouraged to post my poetry on social media. The many comments which I have received over the past six years have convinced me that the messages which I have passed on have provided a source of comfort and healing to those who are suffering from depression and grief. Many also relate to coping with our own illness and that of loved ones. They seem to contain a wisdom which is beyond my conscious awareness and I believe that they can provide a valuable resource for those who wish to live a more inspired and fulfilling life.

Patrick W Kavanagh
November 2018