relationships

by

beach memories

I recognise the mindful way
each foot is placed
stepping over
walking around
careful as she walks
the sandhill path to the beach

I feel the rhythm
the slow quiet pressure and release
as each foot falls and lifts

hands brush through
grasses that grow tall
along the edge of the path
marram grass and lupin
toetoe* and spinifex
each stroke a caress
a hand in a lover’s hair

I reach forward into her touch
and bend away
eager and shy
trusting

the rhythm changes
feet run over sand
land heavily after jumping
over driftwood and seaweed flotsam
until the sea is reached

then all weight is lifted
as she floats and drifts
and still, there is a sense of her
as waves bring her back in
to scuff feet against the sand
and I wash over, tasting her skin

when she leaves
my salt kisses
drying in her hair
wind and sea
smooth her footsteps from the beach

and I hold the shape of her
the weight of her
memory embedded
encoded in roots
lying deep below the surface
waiting

© Claire Griffin 2016

*toetoe = tussock grass (pronounce as “toi toi”)

by

morning secret

two kereru swoop in
and land on the power lines
thwuump, thwuump of heavy wings
beating down on the cool morning air

a dance begins
or maybe avoidance
it depends on your point of view

one steps left
as if the other is too close
but the movement is mirrored

one turns around
and this too is copied

shuffle, shuffle, step, step, turn

shuffle, shuffle, step, step, turn

until a comfortable distance
between them is achieved
and they sit side by side
buffeted by the wind

a minute passes
and the follower takes the lead
standing tall, chest out, bouncing
up and down on the wire
then starts stepping left

towards the first
who decides enough is enough
and flies off into the shelter of a tree
only to be followed
one more time

behind the leaves
their movements remain
a morning secret

© Claire Griffin 2016

by

fortress

I can carry my own inner child
I can protect and reassure
and love her

but I cannot carry yours as well
you need to heal your own child

you left her alone, crying
into the emptiness, waiting
to be heard, to be held in love

you erected barriers
to keep you both safe
but these kept everyone
at a distance

and now, no matter how much
attention she is given
she will not be
silenced

you are a fortress
harbouring a
crying child

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

And with this, in those last three line, I finally formed a metaphor to describe and explain the behaviour of someone once near to me. Moving past my own hurt and anger, I found something like understanding, almost compassion. But the fourth line holds true – I cannot hold someone else’s pain. I am not responsible for it, and I do not have the answers.

by

distance

there was always a distance

between us
a space I tried to cross
to reach you

I was alone
I sought your approval
thinking it was love

but now

I walk alone
crossing a bridge of my own making
to a place of my choosing

I don’t need you
to be on the other side

I am complete

© Claire Griffin 2016

This is the shortest edit I can make of a piece written in September. I find I am still processing the events and subsequent realisations from the end of last year. A massive emotional blow that led to the reassessment of a key person in my life and everything I thought I knew about my childhood.

I’ve been writing about these experiences over the last few months, and I hoped I had “dealt” with it all, but these thoughts keep surfacing.

So I hesitated to post this, yet another expression of my personal turmoil. When I shared this hesitation with a friend – she encouraged me to post saying “but you can put into words the things that others can’t – it helps others that you share your feelings” and then I remembered that I’ve always believed the deeply personal can be the most universal – so I trust that there will be something here to connect with.

And I’ll stop feeling I need to make excuses for them. These words are who I am, and who I am becoming. 

Still, while I’m tired of the darkness these pieces contain, writing my way through these feelings has released me, and I feel as though I am an adult at last, although I wish it hadn’t taken so long.

by

being strong

We start with the best of intentions
to share the load,
the weight of life.

When others falter
we catch their hand
and lift them, and shelter, and console.
We carry what we can.

and this, we think, is how it should be.

Until, after time,
we notice, we cannot see the horizon.

The weight we carry has bent us
and we have spent so long looking down.
We have forgotten to let go.

We carry worries and fears and debts and doubts
in a basket we’ve woven from our own hair.
We struggle to shrug it off our backs,
but it has become part of us.
Our body has grown around it.
We would need to cut through the braids
that hold this weight against our backs
but in doing so, beware,
we would cut away part of who we are.

Why do we carry so much for others?
We do it because we can.
We do it because they cannot.

This does not mean that we cannot sit down to rest
with our backs against a rock.
Perhaps, we wonder, if we rub against it
the burdens will shift, become uncomfortable,
crawl out from between the strands.
Perhaps, we wonder, they might prefer to start walking on their own.

Still, when we come to rise
we must lift our own bodies,
press against the rock and breathe.
There is no-one to take our hand.

We do it on our own
because we can.

We lift our eyes to the horizon –
it is still there.
We step forward
and intention becomes action.

There is no-one to take our hand.
We do it on our own
because we can.

and this, we think, is being a woman.

 

© Claire Griffin 2016