With  two  sons  growing  up,  and  this  week  far  away  on  high  school  trips,  I  think about  the  things  I  have  learned  along  the  way  and  would  like  to  share  with  them… something  more  than  just  to  ‘keep  warm  and  stay  out  of  trouble’.  Inspired  by  the  words  of  Charles  Dickens,  coming  through  Betsy  Trotwood  to  the  young  adult  David  Copperfield,  this  poem  is  a  thought  on  what  I  hope  they  might  learn  from  life  and  from  me.

What I would share

You cannot always be generous,

Sometimes there are things that you are not ready to share

Things you must for a time hold on to

There are times when you feel the insecurity of scarcity

and cannot believe in abundance

You cannot always be generous,

But please,

Don’t be mean

You cannot always be genuine

Sometimes you do not know yourself, your mind

You fear the light is too bright for your true colors

The cards too clearly staked against you

Your courage lets you down

You cannot always be genuine

But please,

Don’t be false

You cannot always be kind

Sometimes you feel repelled, repulsed

Sometimes you have to turn away, turn your back and walk

Sometimes your soul is small and scared

You haven’t any strength to spare  

You cannot always be kind

But please

Don’t be cruel

Spring  has  officially  arrived  in  Dhaka  this  week  and  it  is  warming  up  fast,  so today  I’m  sharing  a poem  called  ‘Spring  in  Dhaka’.

Spring

It’s spring in Dhaka

Mornings are getting lighter

Short, sharp winter has faded

Earmuffs are flung in sludgy gutters

And suits disappear into the dark depths of crowded wardrobes

Early and late the mosquitoes swarm in ecstasy

Hiding in black and sniffing the air for unwashed feet

And sinewy ankles

Weddings are celebrated in apartment blocks bedecked with fairy lights

Whole streets filled with twinkling fireflies

Powered by energy from black breathing generators

Newly roused from their short winter hibernation

Trees await the monsoon,

stripping off dusty, sun-bleached leaves in anticipation

And burned in street sweepers piles, twigs and leaves

add to the texture of the grainy air

The breath of the dragon filters down the narrow streets in the afternoon

Licking lips in anticipation, but still he sleeps long and late

Building his strength

And mornings are safe and cool

Water levels are low and as the days warm

water bubbles ripen greenly on the surface

fish are concentrating in the city soup,

tiny fish mouths break the scummy surface, gasping for oxygen

days are waiting, waiting fearfully for the heat

every organism is longing, longing thirstily for the rain

After last weeks amazing trip out into the Bay of Bengal, to the Swatch of No Ground, to see dolphins and whales and experience the vast watery space out there, this weeks poem could only be about that amazing experience.

Bay of Bengal

Occasionally you come across a place you’re happy just to know exists

Like this place, far out at sea where in deep, deep green water

Dolphins hunt and play and leap through waves where fish flicker

Knowing this quiet glassy calm is here some days

Some days are storms

Knowing that in gigantic calm

Whales expel moist breath into the still afternoon

These choppy waters

These rocking waves

This playful breeze

Where no light disturbs the stars and moon reflecting in the water of the bay

where nothing interrupts light from the rising sun scattering across waves

I sleep more deeply at night

Breathe more peacefully

Love life more achingly

Knowing this place exists