Tags

, , ,

 

 

The trouble with ‘being a giraffe’

is that your head is stuck in the clouds.

I mean, when there are clouds about

your head, is right up there.

And, when the clouds are down low

your head is right there in them;

the clouds of confusion, the clouds of chaos.

You are right there, day and night

 

You can walk around with splayed legs

but not for so long; it’s awkward to do.

You can carry your long neck out in the front

but you’re sure to regret it, pain in the neck.

Nope, you are destined to have to go back,

destined to stick out your neck once again

and find yourself stuck with your head in the clouds;

the clouds of confusion, the clouds of chaotic.

 

Why, with that ridiculously long neck,

it doesn’t take long (inevitability demands)

you find yourself in those high heady places,

the places of fog; chaotic, confusing.

The leaves of high trees, they can be eaten

but taste is subdued and pleasure alluded.

There’s not much to see, smell or to touch

and most of your hearing is muffled and muted.

 

Hark, Creator now calls to the clouds: ‘Withdraw’,

rolls up the fog like a big woolly blanket.

I see now so clearly, such crisp understanding,

perspective and order and truth is abounding.

And although they still say, indignant with tone,

‘There she goes; the one with her head in the clouds’

I know it’s not true …

It’s simply not true.

(Lyn Beattie)