When the panic is a blinding red haze,
and the hour flaps like a hollow windsock -
the meanings stand out, crisp, articulate,
above the din and win and lose of days,
in dark silhouette against empty talk.
I’ve recognised the meaning of happiness
from its outline, from a flimsy shadow,
its features indistinct against the wash
and thresh of light, but clear nevertheless
its final form, though the face didn’t show.
I have known it mostly by its absence,
the deeper when the cut’s been the sharpest.
When grief has sliced me small and wide open
I’ve felt it keen within touching distance,
mere feet away, a still shadow at rest.
And in that flare of time I’ve been contentto see its frame and infer what it meant.
Okay, so that's 'happy' done. January's been a tough month all round. A good month, therefore, to explore that particular theme.
February is a Write…Edit…Publish month, sign up's on the 1st. Here are the challenges for 2017, must get thinking soon. Back of the drawer - might be a good idea to actually pull one open and see what lurks there…who knows where that might lead...