What is this time you talk about?
Why do you think that ”we have all the time in the world.”
Do you know when we are going to die?
Do you know when we began and when we will end?
Did you buy time and saved it somewhere?
Since when has time become free?
You keep telling me to slow down
because I speak fast
but time is not on my side
Time has been chipping away at my life.
I see that time has a hold on me
so I keep trying to life through it
whilst you are trying to beat
its entire identity
This is poem that I wrote today after watching Buddy Wakefield
perform “Guitar Repair Woman” in London.
You said that you haven’t seen your mother in over 16 months.
As I watched the alcohol soak into your heart I wanted to say:
“I haven’t seen my mother in over 6 years
and I will never see her again in this life. ”
What will you do Buddy
when the woman that made you live
will be taken away by the night?
Did you know that at night
our souls dances between this world and the next
That yes our bodies finds rest at night
but our souls.. well they fight and ooh they fight
What happens when she isn’t yours no more but of death?
When she has taken all your trust away
and all that’s left is you.
When you’re all alone, hyperventilating
trying to steal the air of the ones who do have mothers.
Will you crumble? Will you die?
Or will you try and go through the 5 stages of grief?
Or will depression take away your soul
and leave your legs behind to move aimlessly in this world?
Mothers they have that thing,
that urge to be there for you
whereas others they will grow tired of you
In the end you may learn to settle or worse learn to trust yourself.
Buddy how is this going to end?
Tomorrow is more important than my wedding day
even the day I selfishly will become a mother.
Tomorrow is the day I thank my mother for her dream.
Tomorrow I’m going to walk on to that stage
take that blank piece of paper and cry.
Cry, that I was blessed to have had you for 16 gorgeous years.
Cry, that when everyone else will have their parents in the audience
I have my mother in heaven giving me all the blessings.
Cry, because with my heart I will write down
your beautiful name on that blank piece of paper
and let them know my mother achieved her dream.
A dream of independence and her firstborn gave her a hand.
This paper belongs to you
your selfish eyes
stop looking for you
They start looking
for the other
How the other
I like to think
after those thoughts
you can only believe
that they have found peace
without you, themselves and life