A Moan, from my body to my Higher Self
Whilst scrubbing beneath a boat on a winter’s night
“I am divine and undivided
Neither mind nor body.”
So you say, but frankly that
Makes me feel fairly shoddy.
“I am not my body”
You again begin.
But hang on, if you’re undivided
Where do I fit in?
Lying here beneath this bilge
It’s cold and dark and damp
There’s not much luminosity
From this old paraffin lamp
I’ve seaweed slime and antifoul
Upon my hands and face,
My hair is full of barnacles -
Is this what you call ‘grace’?
The further off you go towards
That ideal state of God
The more it seems to me
I lie forgotten in the mud.
Yet locked up in this frail box
Of flesh and blood and bone
Is a quite amazing mystery -
It’s yours, you know, to own.
So how about it, take a break mate
Leave that pinnacle high,
And get to know the scene
With this old grubby human guy!
