Please bear with me. It’s not been easy. You see the darkness was, well – how can I say – very dark. It was not my old friend – I’ve come to talk to you again – not in Paul Simon’s voice – although it hung around, keeping me company, hooded and brooding. Talking to me – and I could not shut my ears. It’s difficult to describe but – the best way, I think, is to say – there was no light. I only know this now because of the lightness of the breath that has returned and the bloodstream now flows – yes, that’s it – almost unnoticed. Oh, I nearly forgot. I knew I was alive because I could hear my heart in my ears. Loud, monotonous blood moving, pumping like water drums. Hanging around me, talking, reminding me of the darkness.
It is in my skin and bone. This joyful breathing dawn.
The sunlight on a June morning with colours of bees and honey. The morning glory of birdsong, sill and open window, the half-awake stirring. Whispered dreams ghost-shimmer.
A new day lightly lands through the big-eyed playfulness of a breeze, helloing again another day.
On the train to London this morning, I was caught by the thought of