SUGAR HOOPED WEEKS.
Group work with young people.
Someone has written a poem about me.
The only other poem written about me
was from a young
beautiful human.
A long story about her/me/context ........
I regularly facilitated group work in her hostel.
Highly intelligent.
Highly scarred.
Beautiful.
So beautiful.
I always started with a fondue of chocolate.
Always with mini donuts.
I call the gathering ‘DONUTS’
Donuts and meted chocolate to dip them in.
The we start the journey of
self discover
self disclosure
reaching inside
sharing
sharing vulnerability
each of us
in a climate of trust …...
This deeply multiply scarred human
She wrote this poem for me.
SUGAR HOOPED WEEKS
People seem to forget
Or
Chose to erase
Those
Those sugar battered priceless days
That you
So excitedly give
Pumped with familiar phrases
Which would
Exhilarate if they felt
Whilst others would scorn
My sweet
You
Sit and wonder
Why their fuck off phrases
Continue
To meet
And dampen the torment
The fear
That maybe you
My friend
Maybe you once felt
I once did wonder
If I could give
If I could touch
That trembling hand
That unheard heart
That let alone
I do
And in them
And these
Sugar hooped weeks
You
My friend
Beneath the spangled words I taketh
Are
Simply beautiful too!
BHP
