Here is a poem from Henry. You might need to ask him what it’s about!
Waiting and Bleeding
Even the sand can’t yet contextualise,
The cratered reflection in your eyes.
Answers will never approach you, nor any felled soul.
But the suggestion will hold deep for now.
The gaze drawn down from just that moment, would illuminate most paths.
As the mobilisation of the minutes draw time, only so far.
The efforts cajole you as the props fail suggestion.
Held, once more in disguise.
Shattered from the haunted nature of the cord.
Withdrawn from the features of meaning.
Bereft, poised yet willingly hopeful.
Candidly taught toward the cause.
Bleeding for the blossom to reignite the memories of old.
To escape the sordid cradle of acceptance.
Waiting for the tapestry of failure to bleed reasoned direction.
To live without such subjection.
Henry Goodwin – 7.5.2021