For Amal at 60 years..

Listen, he said, sit still and listen:
do you hear the earth humming?
do you hear the insects crawling?
and the half-finished sentences,
the unanswered questions,
the children screaming,
the couples swearing at each other,
the animals complaining,
the unending roar of discontent,
the unceasing black noise…
Can you record, or reshape, all that?
Look, he said, sit still and look:
how the sunset blurs into dark, 
how there’s scarcely a star to be seen,
how thin lines scar into faces,
how figures rush past without pausing,
how food is plonked down on a table,
how hands start to tremble and shake…
Can you find words to tell that?
Shapes, and colours, and sounds
and all the intricacies that our senses
catch and scoop and want to mould,
to turn into a story, to form into a song.
From the earliest distant days
warm in the dappled sunlight
then across leaping waters,
into the Highlands and the frosty cold.
Then finding people to love
and to start building — and never despairing, 
at the arrogance, and the rejection,
and having a different way of speaking
and a different coloured skin
(and being blessedly different!)
But pulling from your past
bags-full of many-facetted
brightly coloured, somersault-turning,
twirling, skipping, flat or shaped
WORDS — man of words:
who taught us to listen, look, imagine,
open doors, dare out into the unfilled space
And write!

Thank you, Amal, for your warmth, enthusiasm and encouragement (we need it!!)