Poem By Kate Hutson
Intellectual gymnastics feign attempts at logic,
Where inside is that small still voice?
The choir in my head sings loud,
Cacophonous confusion blinding choice.
The filing cabinet’s upturned,
Jumbled on psyche‘s floor.
For hearts ease,
Hire a skip for the open back door.
Feng shui my mind,
Clear out all that has served it’s purpose stored,
The multifarious echoes of what has been,
Are no more to be endured.
So there is a plan,
Though as yet no starting point,
‘Seek and ye shall find‘,
Look closer at the terrain,
Surprising in it’s glory:
Variety and colour that could blind.
Emotions nudge taking intellect by the hand,
Some things should be kept for fate,
Discord bends to harmonise,
As the choir tap their feet and syncopate.