may 21 2000

The piper played in the windy grey day
the men asked me if I wanted the third
lift the last one before the grave the
piper played as I carried her my mother

Along side the five strong men we walked
Slowly to the piper's tune we walked each
holding her body aloft in her box of pine
she died  days short of eighty six birthday

Winifred Simpson my birth mother and not
the ordinary mother of an everyday life
she was an orphan herself raised in the
cold dank dark  Dungannon Workhouse

She birthed the two of us twin babies
I never saw again ever that loss is
still felt in the bone in the soul
as we nestled in that warm womb

Winifred Simpson beloved mother
You always left clues for me later
knowing I would find them and you

The piper played at the graveside
as we lower you down into earth

I tossed a sprig of baby's breath
and three red roses for myself
Leonard and Antony the baby's breath
for Harold taken when he was eighteen

My prayer that we would know each
other again in life as we did in death
Winifred Simpson of the Clan Simpson
who lived and breathed a never despaired

The piper played on that dull Irish day
I carried her coffin on the third lift
As we lowered her dead body down
my heroic beautiful funny wise mother.

Time is galloping on

By God My god my my my where is the time going
I thought I had forever and now here you are time
reminding me of the day to day waste of everything
the book I did not write the promise I never kept
to sit at the doors between the worlds and guard
yes guard humanity and let them know that no
matter what happens to this world we have another
planet to go too....  

Big Pine Rapids

Welcome to Canada and the month of  May in Ontario
when snow melts and walls of cold white water thunder
down over ancient stone in the land of the Algonquians
ice cold vibrant holy sacred water mountains of froth

The  tin canoe is red I am wearing life jacket orange
one minute I am in the canoe at the front and into the
churning mess of Big Pine Rapids we go French River
no not Little Pine Rapids but Big Pine Rapids power

One  minute in the boat desperately trying to balance
paddles lowered flat in the hopes of keeping us safe
One minute in the boat the next in the undertow yes
knocking on heaven's door I am in deep death distress

The water undertow sucked me into a tunnel of dark
below was the sun beyond to another world of life
where a body was not necessary I saw bits of flesh
falling of my bones how long would death take now


 I saw the wrought iron table dark green round
two empty teacups and saucers all in fine china
as I saw my own death in the middle I saw where
water did not matter where time stood still forever


Between life and death what as exotic place to be
the ceremony of tea claimed my presence at the table

I tried to find you

For years the photograph lay about the desk
my past she said the little baby in the highchair
was me at nine months old I was a strong one
for years the photograph held only remnants
of a loneliness that settled deep into my soul


I barely noticed the other people in the picture
The nurse with a bush of dark hair bursting
out from under a white starch cap fastened
no doubt by two or three metal hairclips on
her knee another baby about my age my size
holding the hand of a fat kid in shorts lonely


The photograph lay around for years lost
occasionally I would glance at my baby self

I was the nine month old baby in the highchair
far above the ground sitting ever so quiet with
one leg tucked up over the other as in womb
I was sitting alone separate from the others
No one was holding my hand I was alone
yes utterly alone orphaned forgotten sad



Then one day for some reason the photograph
suggested a closer look maybe with a glass
that magnified the picture and if I looked
close enough I could see right through then
into sixty two years ago into that moment


 I did I noticed every detail of every person
how I wish  i had not not it was too much
too much information only leading to more
pain more sorrow and more soul anger now


For I discovered a twin in me and the other
baby of nine months old as sure as day is
night we came out of the same fertilized egg
twins she was my own my life my other half
how could they do that rip us apart at the seam
it now explains all these dreams I use to have