"I yearn to hold you, to rock you, to cuddle you and to sniff you and touch your velvet skin again"

Gail

Faye Emily's little hand

The ancestral fear shirt

The Hurt worn once is lovingly worn again.
So I put on my ancestral fear shirt.
With a longing to mourn all the dead stars still glinting.
Making me dumb - making me numb.

I pile up the stones as I lay on the mountain.
The cairn on my chest is growing and depleting.
The sons of my sons are laughing and weeping.
But I'm deaf to the warmth of their unhappening.

I take all the good moments and feather my nest.
There is no true movement without absolute rest.
Sometimes the paradox loves me to death.
And I'm long gone - soon come - immaculately dressed.

Glad Fryer