I will spoon-feed you peaches
I’m a 19 year old Literature student from the Highlands trying to fall back in love with writing and words.
It is Spring
If there is still a life
to be grasped at,
then Spring will
bring it to back
to you.
–
If there is still
a ragged breath somewhere
inside of that
chest,
then I will nurse
it quietly into a song.
–
I will tuck you in
and I will water you.
I will spoon-feed you peaches
and love
and open up the windows
again.
I will change the sheets.
I will keep you safe
until your suffering
falls asleep.
I will bring flowers
to the grave of
the person
that you were,
before you were
somebody that is really,
really
sick.
–
It is Spring and I
know that you think
that you’re dying.
–
It is Spring and
the April light is still madly
in love with your
delicate hairless
head, your
veins still
furiously alive beneath
tender skin pumping
drugs that will
break you before
they will build you.
Your sticky honey
hands still clenching mine;
your child. I am your child.
Your child.
–
On the worst days,
I will bring you entire
gardens of growth.
I will show you how
the earth unwraps itself
every single year to reveal
fresh layers of hope.
–
Listen, I know.
I know that you want
to die with dignity,
that you
want to write the profound
letters and sink
softly into the sky.
–
There’s no dignity
in digging yourself
an early grave.
There’s no dignity
in leaving me behind.
–
It is Spring and I
know that you think
that you’re dying.
–
But the birds fly quietly
through the clean blue air.
–
They come back home
again and weep
with joy and relief for
their matted wings,
and all of the
different places that there are
in the world.
–
And you watch them
up there,
in their small arrow formation,
from the dirty old window
beside sick bowls
and needles
and you laugh with amazement.
You laugh because you’re
still alive to see the
birds coming home.
–
It is Spring
and the grass has
never been this long.
The bees never so excited.
The sky’s bursting
and the plants are
singing, loud
and gentle.
–
It is Spring.
–
It is Spring,
and you still have
so much
growing to do.
By Melanie Maclennan
Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation. Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.
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