Give me no hope to lose
Nor joys to turn to grief
No liberty to choose
A course bound for the reef.
I want no high ideal
No earnest fantasy
No vision, call, or zeal.
No plan, no destiny.

I live on the edge of his estate
Eviction is always possible
My tenure is very insecure
I try to remain useful.

He is not black – but David,
Though, by the way,
David is black.

Some,
Who keep life at arm’s length,
Say it is his only obvious feature.
I wonder,
Do they look at books and see only paper;
Or cars and see only pressed steel?

I step inside his guard,
Unguardedly,
And find myself touching another world;
One not unlike my own
Yet wholly other.
I bring my wife and children with me –
They bring their worlds too.
The youngsters soon explore
New continents of kindness
And frolic on the shores of oceans
Brimming with fun.

He ties the small boy’s shoelace
For the third time
Patiently.
Only to be pounced upon and wrestled
By a flurry of gleeful, unspoken gratitude.

So, together,
Walking in the cool of the day,
We spin a new universe into being.

Suddenly it dawns on me
That I am out of place.
I turn and walking jauntily
Maintain my casual face.

Inside, the tide of sorrow swells
Silent the sobs that rise.
You hear my bright, relaxed farewells
But not my wrung goodbyes.

How did this little gleam prevail

Against the leaden clouds of chance?

How could this otherness, this grail,

Chalice such joy, quicken my feet to dance?

What’s to do but up and go

Never mind the ice and snow

In the aching hollow

Down below.

‘Orchestras’ are like ‘organs’

Similar but different

Like ‘Peas’ and ‘Mushy Peas’.