1386

Peace has come into my heart.

After all the stress of work,

The subtle arguments,

The careless words;

Peace has settled in a way I have not known before.

I try to stay on top, make things turn out

The way I think they should

But even when, sometimes, they do

The acid in my gut

 Tells me it is not so.

But now

That I have stopped trying to win,

To be the boss, always in control,

Nothing has changed

Except

The acid drops

Are gone.

I sleep at night;

I feel relaxed all day.

The work gets done but there is time to read,

To listen to the Proms, to simply sit

And bask.

I sense you smile at my stupidity

Thinking that being in charge was up to me.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 23.9.25

 

 1136

The tide is going out and where waves turn

Small patches of damp sand appear

Dark against the brilliance of the foam

Which idles on towards the rotting pier.

The wind has dropped and some folk even risk

T-shirt and shorts to jog along the prom,

While I lean here, watching the time run by

Unconcerned at what's about to come,

Accepting that the beauty of this day

Suffices - no - is more than I could ask

And far more than I could dare demand

Of life, which wraps its warmth around my hand,

And leads me on towards a greater task

Which lies in wait, somewhere along the way.

Brian Hick March 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 14.3.24

 942

Psalm

An empty church; a quiet afternoon.

I sit and read some chapters of Isaiah

But cannot concentrate, for all too soon

My mind drifts off from texts that don't inspire

To thoughts of you, in hope you will appear.

Silence creeps around me but the mass

Of clashing words within my head shear

Away the hope of any lasting peace -

A war unheard but raging even here.

Must I ever fight to find the balm

That heals this deepening wound, this lingering snare

Which eats away my soul destroying calm?

Oh for a touch, a hint that you will come

And rescue me from what I have become.

Brian Hick May 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 26.5.23

 915

I came to you for simple understanding

In friendship, rather than imposed command;

I hoped that you would follow in my footsteps

To love as I loved, trying to understand

How even those who hated you had value

And no one was beyond redemptive love.

But now it seems I might have been too hopeful

For humankind, where Peace, that gentle dove,

Can only be assured by blooded weapons

And violence precedes the enforced calm.

The footsteps that I left seem to lie empty

With few there seeking for insight or balm,

While masses flock to massacre the innocent,

Slaughtering, to gain a martyr's palm.

Brian Hick March 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 27.3.23

 899

7.28

The fog is clearing over Warrior Square

As the seven-twenty-eight slides into view,

On time today; a restless pair

Of blackbirds, undeterred, peck at the few

Damp twigs scattered on the down-side bank.

The train is silent until Robertsbridge

Where school-boys with their mobile phones and lank

Hair call out to each other across the carriage

But only to go as far as Tonbridge Wells

Whence peace returns right through to Canon Street,

With nothing save announcements or the swell

Of distant conversations to compete.

          Oh that every journey were this calm

          Oozing contemplation's subtle balm.

Brian Hick February 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 15.2.23

 At the Garcon!  (Cardiff Bay)

The sun is dropping and within an hour

Will cast low shadows right across the bay.

We sit upon the terrace, and assay

The boats in rapid flurry to the pier.

A tourist in St David's hotel snaps

Us, though he wouldn't know we're here

Lost in the evening crowd, who sip a beer

Or sit as we, letting the time slip by

Between the courses of the pre-set meal

- Endive Belge et Supreme de Polet -

Idyllic as a holiday should be

But rarely is; a moment snatched, to heal

          The days when there is never time to say

          That in my heart, life always is this way.

Brian Hick September 2008

©copyright Sally Hick 16.9.22

 Escape

Flicking - as men do - across the channels,

Post breakfast, just before I had to wend

My way to London for another meeting

I chance on Igglepiggle at the end

Of yesterday's repeat of the Night Garden

Gently flowing through the ritual chatter

Which brings each quiet story to a close.

Upsy Daisy sleeps and Makka Pakka

It tucked up warmly with his pile of stones,

Tombliboos lie snug.  Across the lawn

The Pinky Ponk has landed for the night

And all are safe until the next day's dawn.

          The star-boat sails away into the night

          And I recall that all that is - is right.

Brian Hick 6.609

©copyright Sally Hick 3.6.22