Weathervane
Written by Tom Hirons on Sunday the 16th of January 2011
I don't know.
One day to the next, like a weathervane.
Today, I think I'm a Zen renunciate.
Tomorrow, I'll be a poet again
Mad with life and singing in the fields.
The day after that?
I don't know.
Yesterday, deepening into memory,
Swimming in the Goddess water.
Today, spiralling out in bright colours,
An explosion of Self everywhere.
Who is in there?
Who is in there?
What is your name?
I've been Tom, Tani, Coyopa.
Hirons, Alexander, a King - all of them.
Slept rough on concrete,
Buried my head in the woods.
Known my wings,
Felt the fluid centre of my brain.
One day, I'll get it.
Before then, I'll give up getting it.
Who is in there?
Great nameless madness of wonder;
Crushing gravity of Soul.
This morning the sun was warm on my skin.
First time since Winter began.
I was delirious with pleasure
And hope flew round me, dancing!
The wind changed and the clouds came over:
Now it's icy cold again.
Buddhist, Taoist, Sufi, Christian.
Muslim, Atheist, Heathen.
Jew, Zoroastrian, Heretic.
Red, yellow, black, brown, white.
It makes no difference.
That first touch of Spring
Will make you mad for life.
If you don't laugh with joy,
You're already half-dead.