Poetry from Abigail George

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Love is quiet

Quiet

Be strong heart

I’ve cried tears

that have

tasted like the rain

Woven into my tissues

are wildflowers

What are woven

into yours?

I spoke to  

the person in the cell

I went to bed with storms in my head

I called it a mistake then

And much later, a lesson

a choice

It’s summer

I feel the heat

beneath my skin 

under my eyelids

I feed my father’s cancer

tomato sandwiches 

Dark

Dark

Dark

Here they come

The waves

Fear in my heart

for every word not said

every meal not prepared

when I saw blood

on the bandage

that covered your eye

Oh, mother

will you ever forgive me

for not listening to you?

Daily I write you poems

inside my head

that turn into

hymns, psalms

the Chopin melody turns into a river

the piano into a cold leaf

Dark

Dark

Dark

Here the waves come

I am left waiting for a miracle

in the dark

a spinster

with spinster thoughts

with spinster wants, needs and desires

even these fantasies

have tested me. 

Overnight I turned into a museum

What is this weakness inside of me?

Yes, I realise I am weak

I realise

I have my limitations

Self, ego

The road is a miracle

It’s dark

I can’t seem to find my way

The older men are nice

They are kind

The men who are

as old as my father

have intellectual discussions with me

The women ignore me

Their laughter tastes like English mustard

That’s all

Decay

That’s all

that’s left of me.

I wait

for the chops

to defrost

on the countertop

growing older

colder, more afraid

in this

a time of questioning

I read my future

Counting my past’s sorrows

Anxiety’s pre-history

Mad with erosion in my soul

I think I understand 

your shy tenderness now

The beast 

and roots and the powers

of wilderness in you

Poetry is experience

Vertigo taught me that

I think of all my teachers

while the meat turns into metaphor.

The doorway

I make toast

with peanut butter

for you

it’s important

there are many

things that are important

these days

the light

in this room

for one thing

for another

the fact that you’re

awake

that I’m in the kitchen

making you

a late breakfast

Digging

Digging

Digging

While they dig

Yes, while those cancer cells dig, chip

anchoring away

I eat the sun

It drips down my chin

While the dog barks

Yes, while the dog barks

You’re quiet

So, so quiet

Into the loathed

strangeness of cancer

They curl then dance, curl

and dance away into mitochondria

Into the strangeness

of tissues and organs

the groaning of the body

its atoms

all of its dimensions

Into the holistic awareness

of those cells

Daddy, I hope

these berries heal you

Take this

and accept this mug

of green tea

this offering,

this machine

My love is like

ginger and honey, these bees’ rage

will nourish you

The ginger

will behave

like ointment, honey a salve

a balm

I keep meeting

your gaze in maps

Drinking in the fear

and anguish in your eyes

You see, it matches my own.

It matches my own

The doorway becomes

a passage, nobody sees my tears.

And you, dad,

becomes a new creation

While the machine performs a scan

on you

I am frozen

You’re a sphere

A flat grassland

The back of my hand

Neverland

One day you’re never

Coming back to me

You won’t be walking

through the front door

The grief and longing here

how sweet you are

how faithful

Never leave daddy

Never leave me, my beloved

Strange bones

What strange love this is

A daughter’s love

To optimism and hope

For its appearance in my life

This is me remembering you

And for the memories

All the memories

That you will leave behind.

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  1. Pingback: Synchronized Chaos Mid-December 2025: The Stories We Tell Ourselves | SYNCHRONIZED CHAOS

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