Who Touched Me?
Remembering,
a feeling lingers,
another’s warmth,
in my hand.
I know it happened,
somehow I can’t remember,
though wasn’t long ago,
this year…
Naw, shucks, it’s not like that,
not that that’s ever,
never,
almost been,
never not wanted too,
nearly wished I didn’t did.
Maybe it ought to be another …
poem, lover, fool
who unveils their tapestries;
Learning, grace and entertainment.
It really was a gift to see her mask,
though she wears it well,
sometimes the hidden,
comes though,
let’s me know,
you wanted to too.
This isn’t that Tangled Stuff,
supposedly less rough.
What or who I don’t know which,
I’m trying to remember?
Maybe a Stranger’s Child,
held my hand,
with kryptonite hidden!
Maybe a Kindly Crone,
willing to join a Healing Circle?
Sometimes the Waves ain’t seen,
though the bow breaks,
me and baby we fall,
craddled arms.
Better to go feet first,
surface not quickly,
sometimes you meet Shore,
not friends,
some Moments,
oddly longer,
never really end.
Freelance Gumshoe,
just the Facts,
matter of fact,
I have used them,
rather than wax;
filter the Sirens.
Doesn’t always work.
Yet another memory,
keeps returning.
20 years or so ago,
I went to the Highlands,
somethings to work out.
Backpacking,
in my wee tent.
Went through a Gale,
snug bug in Gortex Bag,
I laughed,
peeing naked in the Storm,
in the middle of the Night,
such a small brief flame!
My Feet merit mention,
been through many Duties,
few understand,
yet my Dogs are due praise,
I never treated anyone so poorly.
Forget the Man,
walking with his pack,
weeks out of any Hostel.
Aberdeen is a Grey City,
concrete, asphalt and grey granite.
Huge Lorries,
stinking Diesel and Noise.
The edge of a forsaken in between place.
And there she was,
an Old Women,
comes up to me,
and takes my hand,
and gently leads.
Together,
we crossed that awful street.
No word passed between us,
that I recall.
Though the warmth of her hand,
stayed in mine,
awhile.
R.A Hull
10/21/12