Plucking a turtle dove.

I fell away,
my flesh from bone,
my feet from home, I fell
and the British weather wet my ribs
and wet my elbows too.
In the rush of drops, I walked and walked,
in the rush of no here nor then,
and the day was long and the sky unrelenting
and I wondered when to pause.
No feeling caught me quite like it caught me
never to turn back
and the things I lacked left me lighter and lighter,
I was glad I hadn't packed.
I fell away, those morals and guidelines, those things that kept me sane
and wore my guilt and shame as bangles that jangled in the rain.
I sang a song, and as I did the last of me collapsed:

For I know that I have lived and I've died
an odd one but there was me and there was you.
For I know that I've lived and I've died
a lucky one for there was me and there was you.

[Photography: abc]