He goes to a place to be there,
to be really there, away from here.
The metal seat is hard on his bottom
but no matter there he is.
Below him is a small beach,
that regularly accumulates piles
of seaweed wafted in on the gentle waves
of an otherwise calm sea, the Med.
The sky is clear blue with a bright hot sun.
Gulls sail the air currents in hope of food,
pigeons bob along the sand intent on raiding
the picnics of the holiday crowds.
Beyond this bay, rests an isthmus,
dotted with high end living,
couched in woodland and rich greenery.
His body settles in - eye flicker slows -
breathing expands lungs - head rotates.
Today’s daily view overprints the previous,
the power of the image increases, setting
off a trickle of quiet down his body,
irritation slews from his fingertips,
his world fades, tunes into the rhythm
of the tide which laps the shore,
sinking and smoothing the sand.
Recently I heard myself diatribe negatively about the state of the world and its increasing mess. I was speaking matter of factly as if it didn’t really impact on me, I was a casual observer. In a way this is true, I do not directly experience any of the horrors that large portions of the world population have to face daily. I am truly grateful for that there but for accidents of birth . . . Nevertheless, if I pay attention to the world, my heart sinks and I feel myself descending into irrecoverable chaos and hopelessness, running the risk of being another burden in an already overburdened situation. I have not found a way yet to be useful, help counteract the downward trend. The best I can do at minute is keep myself in some kind of shape. Deep down, I think I have delusional belief that somebody or something will do something – a classic denial. So I write, I stave off the chaos and I try to follow a basic rule do no harm. I have returned to morning reflection, exercise and writing. Here is one piece.