0007 Holding The World Poem by Michael Shepherd

and there’s this alleyway
and a passage, then a door,
ordinary, but
the pavement in front of it
has been carefully swept this morning;
you came upon it by chance,
but now you’re here, it
seems important;

an old man - well,
old for that part of the world -
probably not long to live, but
erect, still, extraordinary eyes,
they seem to see everything;
doesn’t say much, but
ask him any question in the world
and he gives you an answer
you’ll remember for the rest
of your changed life

he says, it’s all, all love;
and so are you

then there’s this dusty road
to a small town
in a country built by faith
now torn apart by faith,
run by political masters from abroad;
a pub that takes overnighters,
an outbuilding - well,
more a lean-to to shelter the animals
on a cold windy night;

a baby’s first smile, something
its parents remember all their lives;
it seems to say,
it’s all, all love;
and so are you