line straight as the horizon
faintly blue as sky meets sea
each edged finger-width apart
my words lay cushioned by these layers
some smeared by my own hand
it was not by accident that I wrote to you
between the lines and not on them.
© Ali Grimshaw
They arrived unattached,
expecting nothing in return,
only wanting to be heard.
Now we reside together in the rocking chair.
I open to a blank page to welcome them home.
© Ali Grimshaw
Huddled with survival,
dying coals radiate little warmth.
walk toward that which lights your fire.
fuel the love light inside yourself.
When the wind blows and blows fiercely.
Your glowing flame will remain.
Untouchable.
© Ali Grimshaw
I would rather be meandering,
in the world of a single question,
than sitting with the answer,
back on the shore,
drinking from the same cup,
gazing out the kitchen window,
at the fleeting white sails.
© Ali Grimshaw
Stalled on the bridge, in between here and there.
I look back to all I have built.
What is still standing and what is no longer in service.
Hoping others will use these spaces, be thoughtful about repairs.
That tall one will need a new roof.
Some may be too weathered to save.
Pausing on the bridge, in between here and there.
I look ahead to wide open space.
What could be built and what is needed.
Beauty that can only be created by elements and time.
A center which radiates the harmony of shade trees.
Bare hands joining for strength that I alone do not have.
I remain next to the railing.
water rushing beneath.
No longer who I was.
Not yet who I am becoming.
© Ali Grimshaw
Rain is on our lips,
down the path we run.
Through puddles,
Not around.
Mud and moss.
Wind whipped hair.
Years of words shared between breaths of air.
Creek waters rolling by.
Tears and questions woven into the miles.
Over roots, up hills.
Between the trees we run.
Thoughts uttered within the flow of movement.
Conversations not possible in stillness.
By Ali Grimshaw
Will you be there when I arrive?
Will you be able to set the noise aside?
Will you listen behind and underneath my words?
Will you give your whole being to what I am telling you?
Will you notice what I don’t say?
Will you stay during the silences?
Will I unlock my voice this time to say
what I have not yet said to myself?
Holding my breath.
I wait for you to
meet my
eyes.
By Ali Grimshaw
There, but not seen,
playing the game of smile and nod
waiting for a turn to speak.
Am I really here?
Maybe they can’t see me.
Maybe I have gone.
Yet the long shadow on the grass
is evidence that I remain.
Remembering my voice
I step away to find another shadow
on the edge of all that is green.
I find another who is choosing listening
even though there is so much to say.
Together we hear each other
whilst standing in silence.
By Ali Grimshaw
He is me.
And
We are them.
Only our thoughts
Separate us.
Love alive inside each
ls the same.
By Ali Grimshaw
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 