Saturday 23 April 2011

Sanctuaries

 Sanctuaries
  
A childhood den was my sanctuary in the bushes
Or the natural shelter of a Cornish cave.
In places like these I could be Tarzan,
Or Raquel in 'One Million Years B.C'.
A taste of the wild and the primitive
When the modern world offered nothing.
I'd erect a Bedouin tent between wardrobe
And bed with mum's striped beach towels.
Shut out the real world and construct my own.
Another welcome sanctuary for a loner,
Behind the stacks of mashed potato boxes
In Tesco's stockroom I'd make my lair,
preferring solitude to the smoke
And din of the staff canteen.
What now in busy family home
Where there is nowhere to run and hide?
What else but to retreat into your own mind
Becoming introspective, to preserve sanity,
Tapping into a sanctuary within.
In a state of panic one day,
Escaping noisy house full of feuding kids
I ran in tears to the brick-built
Bus shelter, opposite, and imagined it
With windows and a door, complete with brass bell.
Surrounded by a little, white picket fence.
I'd transform it into a sanctuary to call my own.


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