Clinging On ~ Carran
Clinging On
Carran Waterfield
Clinging On
I am clinging on in the place of stillness, homeliness, comfortlessness,
Staying put
and looking out of the window.
From my front and from my back
peering through the windows from my house on the edge,
I am still clinging on
Pinging
Ponging on.
I see an old ping-pong ball clayed up in the foundations
from some old Christmas time cracker gone by.
Like the stone it had worn into the furniture.
Today the branch cracks off in my little brittle hand,
“Dust yourself down and venture out,” she says.
I see lots of others clinging on for dear life,
so I copy them,
ape them,
empathise with them.
And we all cling on together with our fingers, hair and nails:
calcifying ourselves to the wind and the sea.
Carran Waterfield
Clinging On
I am clinging on in the place of stillness, homeliness, comfortlessness,
Staying put
and looking out of the window.
From my front and from my back
peering through the windows from my house on the edge,
I am still clinging on
Pinging
Ponging on.
I see an old ping-pong ball clayed up in the foundations
from some old Christmas time cracker gone by.
Like the stone it had worn into the furniture.
Today the branch cracks off in my little brittle hand,
“Dust yourself down and venture out,” she says.
I see lots of others clinging on for dear life,
so I copy them,
ape them,
empathise with them.
And we all cling on together with our fingers, hair and nails:
calcifying ourselves to the wind and the sea.
