Write What You Know

I don’t know anything
about everyday things.
I don’t know anything
about cups of tea or
washing clothes or
giving birth or
pruning plants.
I don’t know anything about
changing oil or
deciding what to have for tea.

I know a lot about
kings and queens,
about magic and fire,
about the feel of the winter wind
as it sears sharply through outspread feathers,
about the view of the earth from space,
about the composition of stars and
what it’s like to live on the moon.

I don’t know anything about
changing nappies or
paying bills or
smoko break at the office or
sitting next to the guy on the bus who stinks
or the last two steps to the door at my house or
the way the light in my mother’s eyes is fading.

I know a lot about
the soft swish of the mane on Prince Charming’s white horse,
about castles and warcries and
the pages of books
I know a lot about how it feels to
fly on the summer breeze,
about how to build a nest in a safe tree,
about how to captain the Starship Enterprise.

I don’t know anything
about everyday things -

but oh, all the things I know
and could tell you about
how to be free!

Written 4 April 2010 – ER

[NB: for anyone who actually knows me - I would like to remind you that the Truth of poetry resides in the sense it conveys, not in exact facts - that is the beauty of it - and that poetry can be fiction and still convey truth.  And the light in my actual mother's eyes is not fading! ]

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