On winter green sky

red sun draws

the flag of Bangladesh.

Dhaka 2014

After a couple of weeks filled with art exhibitions (no less than three), cultural evenings and the fabulous Dhaka Hay festival which included a number of very inspiring speakers. For me the bravest of all were the performance poets. I have been moved, again and again by the courage of those who dare to share their art and have the courage to be proud of what they do when there is no quality standard against which to measure and reassure themselves.

Artists

Courage to overcome
the inner critic,
skeptic analytic,
to dare to share
who you are, what you hide
inside.

Have the cheek to be loud,
weird and proud.
Unrefined emotion,
you’ve untwisted, set in motion-
let free,
let be,
let us see
what emerges if you dare
to share.

Dhaka 2014

Memories of trekking in Nepal.

Farmhouse night

We slept one night in a farmhouse, farmer and family left their warmth
in thin mattresses for us to enjoy, after campfire and dancing.
Bare-foot dusty pounding,
smoke in my hair.

We slept two to a bed, tired limbs dragging us into dreamless
sleep, until shaken by screams, sharp-eyed shape of a rat.
Inquisitive peering
from cracks in dirt walls.

Pinprick torch light in pouring darkness, midnight rain’s
monsoon flood, visions of landslides, bare rocks, broken limbs.
Wide-eyed awake
while our young ones slept on.

We slept, after all, ‘til the world was reborn, Himalayan
sunrise, smoky coffee, damp socks. Relieved, rested and restless.
Fresh fire-fried eggs,
we trek eagerly on.

Dhaka 2014

This week’s poem, inspired by the way things change, the cold fact – that we never know what will happen next, the warm comfort that we always have hope and dreams for the future.

The unknown

Sail wide seas, sail wide seas – the wind is blowing strong,
you pause and feel its power and know the time has come.
Hauling, furling, creaking ropes, breathe grey wash of time,
feel the gasp of destiny, of birth, of death, security
is ebbing with the tide.

Adjust the sails, adjust the sails – these storms will surely cost,
strain anchor chain, prepare for change, good hope is never lost.
Priming, planning, rub scarred hands, grip tight what you can hold,
make ready for you know not what, the bond is cut
that bound you to the old.

A gleaming twist from glowing mist, the future steps on board,
her voice is calm and confident – she guides to unknown shores.
Let down the sails, make fast looped cords, bring only what you must,
and trembling still, eyes raised in hope, you swing ashore, you cut the rope
and step new earth in trust.

Dhaka 2014