I'm waiting at home
Tending the home fires
Banked against the coldness of broken hearts.

I may not be the man you wanted but hope I'm the one you need ……
When cold winters wind blow
the ages of our years upon us
I'll be the one, I will be the one.

So hasten home
Less sleep and the years
Take me beyond your reach
And I'll not know the beating of my heart
Pressed against yours

Nor the touch of your skin and tears
Mixed with
Intermingling with
The endless wash off wave and tide that
Beats the beat of a pulsars heart
At the end of the universe and time

I'll be the one if you'll be the one
We'll circle round interminably you know
The inexorable pull of loves gravity
Pulling us home
Pulling us home
Again and again
pulling us home.

I Wish it Had Been You

I wish it had been you
That had sped the plough
And sowed the seed
And harvested the soul
Of my memories of you

But alas it is I
To lay my hand upon your furrowed brow
And wash the aching loss of a grieving heart

It is the nurse and doctor and I and you and my brother, sister, father and lover . . .
that speeds the morphine,
that slows the heart,
to ease the pain
of love torn apart

I wish it had been you
But it is me and it is you and you and you
That plants the ground,
Upon which love grows.

I wish it had been you.
I wish it had been you.


September 2012
Written at a workshop on Palliative care by the Metta Institute.org