Jemimah Lacrimae

The growth of a poet's mind ...
Here is mine, intact and entire
Brimming with all I am and
All I have been -
All the colours and bright scenes
Run and run like a neverending
Film that will not cease
I am my eyes and heart 
All the feeling and the sight of it
As, brave, I try
And play my part here
Do your bidding rightly -
So many essayists to read -
So many words to write -
Yet still I strive at it
Push against uncertainty
And self as if I would
Widen the boundary of all.
And my future frightens 
Me that dark unsafe
Place where I must
Plagiarise myself and
Lie down with the wolves
To earn my bread - how
The tread of my own feet
Goes on - this everstretching
Unkind land seems to have
No end.  I carp at you
Today - the hand I do not see
This teeth-kicking 
Wears away my enamel
Until I am scuffed and
Abraded to a base that
Does not shine.  Where is
Your face, that
Help you promised?
I look up at that space
I still have to climb
Within and baulk
At its airy terrain
I am too heavy now
To drag my weight up
Any more ladders for
Both food and place.
You said you are
My sustenance, but today
The race defeats me and
I cannot hold my hand
Enough to hold a pen.
When will there be space and sun,
When can I breathe without
Their dominion, their lies and
Exigencies, their
Treadmills turning and me
Chained-in?  Will the
Safety I knew in my
Childhood home never
Come again but as a
Fragrant memory of breeze? 
Why do you make me
Freeze here in this
Silent place?  I am sick
Of being alone, of working
Working working my own
Spirits up into a fever
To enable me to act
And do.  Easier by far
Would it be to have done,
To come to you now
And know no longer any
Pain.  I have won so
Much to get here, been
All gain as well as loss,
What the right hand emptied,
The left held: aquarius
Pouring in and out of
My life's jars and
The universe occurs
Around me all
Planned and sound but
On this grey plane of
High winds and time
All I want is
My mother's arms and
Some kind comfort I
Know I cannot have.
Why do you torture me?
Why is there yet no ease?
Why do the steps still rise?
I thought I'd reached a
Place of height and happy
Days but here there is
No soul no heart no
Core on which to warm my
Hands and all the passing
Faces are too shallow
For me to catch
And hold.
You ask me to be bold
And keep on trying
But what if my fire
Is too pale and old
To burn?  What if you
Have worn all resistence down?
Is this the plains
or Everest?
Is this not my place
Of rest?  Your journeys
Tire my heart and my
Eyes cannot aspire
To your clear heights
Any longer.  You'd
Better choose another
And let me be 
A destiny unfinished
A task too hard and high
A rock no longer stoic
A piece of flesh
Splayed before the sky.

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