What things to notice
Featured in ‘Sunlight Later’
It’s too late again
I meant to go to bed an hour ago
rub pointless potions quickly, haphazardly into
the folds of my face, screw up my eyes for concertina lines
that stay put like pencil outlines before the ink
black overlay, pull my cheeks up to my ears
then watch them sink back all the way
wonder if I should give up sugar
or invest in some other expensive cream
but learn to rub it in right, like how they show you
massaging myself like a queen, like how I’m meant to
but only if I can get to bed earlier
- why can’t I get to bed earlier?
and I wonder if these things are
the things to notice
or if I will get to the end and realise all the things
I could have noticed instead
like I could notice the way
the clouds swell up solidly like sacred kingdoms
or how the sky fades black to morning white to hide the stars
or I could notice water curling over rocks like shining muscle
or shadows dancing to silence on whitewashed walls
or I could notice the way it might all be over in a day
like at the corner of my street where the traffic lights
are bound with flowers
sunflowers, roses, carnations, lilies
spilling onto the street in black buckets circled by red candle holders
she was 31 and the truck didn’t see
her bike as she rode across the road
and I wonder what she was noticing just then
was it her lines and her mess and her unanswered texts
or was it the way the wind kissed her face?
I could notice the way the wind kissed my face
or I could notice
sheet rain willow snapping gold leaves
or I could notice the way the two people I prayed most to come
did come - they are in the next room sleeping
notice my veins like old rivers
sending life to my heart, still beating
still breathing, in still unnoticed glory
notice the lines on my face
that tell only my story.
An extra note
Many of my poems focus on the theme of ‘noticing’. This one came about after I caught myself late at night fretting about the ever-increasing wrinkles on my face. And I had a moment of thinking ‘hang on - is this the kind of stuff that I want to spend my life worrying about?’ And not just the wrinkles - other stuff, like the state of my apartment, or what someone thinks of me, or why someone hasn’t texted me back, or what I should wear, or what I should eat (or not eat) or what final purchase will surely make my life complete. The stuff that can easily, subconsciously fill a day-in-the-life of a human brain while we casually miss all the important stuff that is happening around us.
And when I say important, I don’t mean big. I mean all the important little stuff. Like the air we get to breathe, like the way the blossoms bud and bloom, like how water looks so beautifully solid as it rushes over rocks, like willow trees, like answered prayers. Having had a failed a marriage in my early-thirties, I had never expected to find happiness again, and had also convinced myself I would never get the chance to have children. Sometimes stopping to appreciate the enormity of that grace, that ‘the two people I prayed most to come / did come - they are in the next room sleeping’ is one way to give a final two-fingers-up to all of the petty, niggling worries I tend to get lost in.
A few years ago, on the corner near where we used to live, a young woman got hit by a truck as she cycled across the road. It really made me stop and think - we never know when our last day will be and when our stories here will come to an end. What do we want to spend our time noticing during the limited time we have available on this earth?
If you like this poem you might also like my poem ‘These Days’. You might also like this track by Mt. Wolf featuring Burgs, a meditation teacher and the founder of ‘The Art of Meditation’. I sometimes put it on when my mind has gone a bit off-track. In it, Burgs brilliantly summarises the point about how important noticing is (and a lot more succinctly than I do!)
‘The chance to be part of this happens briefly
The invitation is not to show how inventive and imaginative you are
But how much you can notice what you're already part of…’