Standstill

“I’m so exposed that I’ve hidden myself” – Kate Tempest

Anchor me down to set me free- 

I’m spiraling out of control 

and on to the dole and I’ve got

to keep moving but I want to

be still. Still I keep on keeping

on, putting one foot in front of

the other, pink suitcase in tow 

brimming with everything I know 

of home and – home is just

a foreign word not often heard 

on this interminable fucking road. 

Nine long months from pillar to post 

passing through train stations like -

somebody’s ghost of a lover

or mother, a phantom of what

could be but never what is -

because I don’t stay long enough

to make it stick. 

There’s only room for one if you're 

your whole world in a nutshell. 

No pegs, or cornerstones, just a

wheel-able, durable hard shell 

and five-year warrantee. 

One day I might just fly away

if I haven’t already.  

I crave being still - to take my fill 

of a single view for a few

hours at a time, to standstill 

until tendrils grow from my feet 

and dig down into soil clay stone, 

to turn off my phone and sink

into earth for a bit of peace

and quiet. Not to die just-

to be rooted (to the spot).

I can’t go in for this third culture shit, 

No you can’t have your cake and eat it. 

It’s called no man’s land for a reason, 

and where you’re from and what you stand for 

shouldn’t change with the seasons, or the time zone. 

We all start somewhere, who you are

isn’t up for grabs, so hold on

tight. Once upon a time I peered

into a lover's looking glass 

and saw myself reflected there: 

mirror mirror on the wall- I

am who you say, so don't let me

fall. I got broken and he moved

on to the next one. 

Now I tread more carefully, 

crunching through the snow 

so white of powdered glass.

Somebody stop me- 

Anchor me fast to set me free.

Don’t hold me down, 

but hold me to you, 

hold me tight 

or I’ll slip through you 

and probably get caught in a very tall tree, 

skirts billowing over my head in a feeble 

parody of a parachute. 

Just hold me close 

and make me real, 

let me feel 

my breath bounce 

off your cheek, nose, chin - 

open your eyes 

let me see in. 

Let me gaze in through the window, 

my nose pressed against the pane, 

to remember what home looks like, 

'fore I hit the road again.