A poem I wrote 11 years ago whilst amidst the belly of the beast. They sought war. They won. But still I breathe, and will speak my truth of your ruthless attempted murder. Honour your tears.

A poem I wrote 11 years ago whilst amidst the belly of the beast. They sought war. They won. But still I breathe, and will speak my truth of your ruthless attempted murder. Honour your tears.

There is So much I remember now,

And so much I beg away to forget forever….

I can’t be more than I am?

How could a paradox be anything else than that?

Questions and time and time and hopefully deliverance

For this mood is a room and this gloom is a bird singing sorrowfully…

I still love her?

No.

But I could try,

I could try for you my principessa.

I could try if it made your heart whole again.

Blood soaked tears shed in sheds that are now watershed.

This place,

These bad rhymes on top of silent sad.

If I could just reach up I could be your father babe, your dad.

I can fix you,

You mend me with your existence,

Promise me you will listen when I tell you It was not that I didn’t care;

For there was nothing I cared more for in every shape form and life spawn…

Promise me you will shake dust from your hair and persevere when I go.

The time will come, you and I – ‘we’ will know.

Chris Canham 

Back to blog