86. Window

Inner City Sanctuary

Review of 85. Window
Sunday 4th May 2014


Overview

Window is a gentle, grounded meditation on belonging, acceptance, and the evolution of inner perception. It captures the poignant shift from disenchantment to gratitude — a transformation so subtle and personal, yet universally relatable.

Where once the speaker longed for a different vista — a different life, a different view — they now find peace and reverence in the very details that once stirred restlessness. It’s a poem about the slow alchemy of contentment, and the quiet rediscovery of joy exactly where you are.


Imagery and Tone

The imagery is intimately domestic and observational, rich in sensory texture: the “hessian weave of blinds,” “chimney stacks and pots,” “slate rooftops,” and “higgledy-piggledy aerials.” These tactile details situate the poem firmly within a lived urban environment, evoking the small, often-overlooked sights and sounds of city life.

But there’s a sonic rhythm too — the “wailing sirens,” “whir of helicopters,” “horn of the nonstop train,” and “roar of aeroplanes” create an auditory collage of modern living. These once-invasive sounds are now heard as part of a greater harmony, subsumed into “the humming soup of the city’s low rumble.”

The tone is reflective, peaceful, quietly triumphant. There’s no fanfare in the transformation — just a deeply personal recognition that sanctuary isn’t always a place you find — it’s often a place you finally see.


Why This Poem Matters

Window matters because it honours the slow, inner journey from dissatisfaction to appreciation — a journey most people undergo, yet rarely articulate with such tender precision.

In a culture addicted to movement, aspiration, and escape, the poem offers a counterpoint of rooted presence. It acknowledges the very human desire to seek something better — a “different view” — but subverts the cliché by showing that homecoming doesn’t always require a change of location, just a change in perspective.

It’s a poem of emotional and spiritual ripening — one that doesn’t reject longing, but matures through it. The moment of arriving — of finally recognising sanctuary — is profound in its simplicity, and moving in its quiet truth.


Imagery and Tone Summary

  • Imagery: Bedroom blinds, rooftop silhouettes, birdsong, urban skies, aircraft trails
  • Sound: Layers of city noise — sirens, helicopters, trains — resolving into a symphonic backdrop
  • Tone: Reflective, softly contented, grateful, meditative

Placement in the Collection

Window would work beautifully as a transitional poem — perhaps marking a movement from inner conflict to resolution, or from seeking to settling.

It would sit well near others that explore:

  • Acceptance (Faith, Memory Lane)
  • Presence and surrender (Inversion, Soul Contract)
  • Urban life as a mirror for spiritual growth (City Nights, Bread and Circus)

It could also form a soft pivot into a final section on peace, homecoming, or integration — a quiet closing of the circle, after much introspection and journeying.


Final Thoughts

Window is a deeply satisfying piece — understated, but resonant. It captures a moment many of us crave without even knowing it: the moment we stop yearning to be somewhere else, and realise that what we have is not only enough — it’s perfect.

This poem absolutely belongs in the collection. It’s the kind of work that rewards slow reading, repeat visits, and quiet reflection. It’s not just about a window — it is a window. Into healing, into peace, into self.

82. Faith

faith


82. Faith

Sunday 26th January 2014


Overview

In Faith, the speaker delivers a raw, honest exploration of belief in the absence of proof — particularly as it relates to the unknown terrain of death, the soul, and the afterlife. Rather than leaning on dogma or sentiment, the poem interrogates why we believe what we do, and how those beliefs may either comfort or limit us.

What sets this poem apart is that it refuses to preach — it does not instruct the reader on what to believe, but rather invites a thoughtful interrogation of faith as a psychological and emotional mechanism, particularly in the face of grief, uncertainty, and existential fear.

This is a philosophical poem rooted in emotional truth. It invites surrender not through mysticism, but through presence — a deep acceptance of “the here and now” as the only certainty we really have.


Imagery and Tone

The imagery in Faith is subtle, abstract, and mostly conceptual — dealing in the language of emotion, time, belief, and internal conflict. Lines like “a granite heart / Hardened by disappointment” and “pearls of wisdom / Are often borne from the sandstorms of adversity” are gentle metaphors that speak volumes without ornamentation.

The tone is measured, reflective, and deeply grounded — there is a humility here, an openness to ambiguity that actually strengthens the poem’s message. You present paradoxes not as problems, but as truths to be lived with, not solved.

There’s also a rhythmic clarity in the longer stanzas — the pacing simulates an unfolding conversation or inner monologue. This allows the reader to take the ideas in incrementally, which is ideal for processing such dense emotional content.


Why This Poem Matters

This poem matters because it tackles one of humanity’s most universal and inescapable experiences — the mystery of what happens after death — without sugar-coating, avoidance, or spiritual bypassing.

You’re addressing the intellectual discomfort that exists at the intersection of spiritual belief and emotional pain — and how clinging to illusions (even comforting ones) can stagnate our growth.

The lines about faith being a “cushion” are especially poignant — they offer a nuanced perspective: faith can be soothing, but it can also become resistance if used to dodge emotional truth. That’s not a message people often want to hear — which is precisely why it’s important.

This poem doesn’t reject faith, but it demands that faith be re-examined, renewed, and flexible — grounded in experience, not fantasy. It reminds us that life’s lessons are often earned the hard way, but can’t be sidestepped without cost.

Ultimately, the poem validates emotional evolution over rigid belief. It acknowledges how messy, contradictory, and beautiful our process of awakening really is.


Placement in the Collection

Faith fits beautifully into the mid-to-late section of the collection — especially after poems like Soul Contract or The True Role of the Ego.

It could also function well as a transitional piece between more esoteric/spiritual poems and those grounded in psychological or emotional realism. Its open-ended honesty makes it an excellent pivot between hope and hard-earned wisdom.

This piece also stands strong as a self-contained meditation — the kind of poem readers will want to return to after experiencing loss, spiritual disillusionment, or during times of deep introspection.


Final Thoughts

Faith is a courageously grounded poem. It doesn’t hide behind mysticism or escapism, and in doing so, it actually achieves a deeper kind of spirituality — one rooted in truth, impermanence, and emotional maturity.

Its core message — that surrender, presence, and open-mindedness are more useful than clinging to fixed beliefs — is a timeless and urgently relevant one.

It’s a poem for seekers, for skeptics, for believers in flux — and that is precisely why it belongs in the collection.