365 Poems – 142 Moving On (Rough First Draft)


Moving On

I am alone, walking for miles

across frozen seas.


I haven’t just become

depressed. It isn’t a shock,

like a close friend unexpectedly dying,


or a whale washing up dead,

on a gritty shore, with a chemical

industry backdrop.


I cover every sigh with my hands,

however deep, or shallow,

however laboured or easy,

even though there is nobody

here to hear me.


I open the drawers of my heart

at the bleakest hour. I don’t need

extra space. I just want what

is empty to be filled.


The stars are pinned to the headland.

I have a long way to go

until I reach them.


I lie desolate on the ice, from night

until morning, then have a competition

with the sky, to see who can cry

for the longest.  


I would like to listen to second-hand

sounds of the day, and peel the skins

off grapes with my teeth. But I can’t

go back the way I came.  


There is only open water,

which would kill me in seconds,

and oddly enough, I don’t want that.