The demon’s touch…

Would that I could spare you pain
You feel the demon’s touch again
I’ll wrap you in my loving heart
Where demons can’t wrench us apart.
And as you lie in sleep’s repose
Protect you, I, against all those
Who bring such wicked dreams to you
I’ll take my sword and them pursue.

With honour pure and blade so true
I’ll drive those demons out from you
And peace and such serenity
Will be returned to you and me.

Would that life could ever be
As straightforward as poetry.

©Joe Wilson – The demon’s touch…2015

Unconditional love…

Children weep over parent’s misfortune
But often say nothing of their own pain
And parents wrapped up in their own sad torture
Miss the hurt their kids feel once again.

If only we let ourselves see from their view
Perhaps we’d all better understand
If we just took that extra moment or two
Sometimes they just want a hand.

There’s no greater love than that of a child
But often, they feel over-awed
We don’t really need any book that’s compiled
To see they want love and accord.

The man in you will know this is true
The woman, of course she will know
It depends entirely on your point of view
But I like to see all children glow.

©Joe Wilson – Unconditional love…2015

The sometimes unkind weave of life…

She looks in the mirror and there she sees
All the hurt and the pain of her yesterdays
Yet the laughter too, and all of the joy
And she wistfully smiles in a way almost coy.

Life for her had never been terribly kind
Yet she still felt that it was a gift, in her mind
Her kindness a legend felt deeply by some
To others, never simply a wife or a mum.

She thought she could still feel the cuts of the knife
As she looked back, just this once over her life
She remembered what had had to be taken away
And the reasons though, why she was still here today.

And though she’d never felt the least singled out
She sometimes just wanted to scream and shout
Then she went to her sun-lounge where it was much warmer
And prepared yet again to face this new trauma.

The sound had gone right out of her days
It was the hardest thing she felt she could face
And try as she might to live with this…thing
She so missed the sound when the blackbirds all sing.

Some of us take such things for granted I know
Never imagining that it would ever just go
To see one you love in this now soundless state
Makes you graciously thankful it isn’t your fate.

One day…we hope.

©Joe Wilson – The sometimes unkind weave of life…2015

(This is very personal therapy, it is much more feelings, than quality.)