Paris

A poem by Alyster Gynn. 7th March 2022.

I thought that she was in my future and I thought that she was in my past.

Today, She is not with me. 

Today, He is not with me.

Today, They are not with me

Paris, my dog that owns me.

Paris. My little dog that licks up the tears from my eyes.

How come I never met you when I know so much about you?

We barked at armies, strangers,enemies, friends, police, family, lovers, criminals wrapped in golden pretence – how come I never met you yet?

My little, beautiful dog.

Are you my future, my past or today?
Paris. 

How come I can stroke you and feel the heat of your body comforting me through the bruises and wounds of Hate Crime?

How come I am here in the 21st Century in Candlelight writing about War?

Oh! and I know, Paris, you will guide me through the stars. 

We are not hunters and we both wear bright orange as we explore the truth of forests and woods. 

Fuck Betrayal – It will never betray us. 

I am transgender, autistic, a victim of child abuse, a survivor of thalidomide, gay and a little bit bi, depressed and suicidal, but a little bit hopeful.

Here is my candle to Ukraine today. 
Here is my candle to every child, every person, every animal, every mouse, every seagull, every thing suffering. 

I hold you. I comfort you. I hold you in this wind and storms, I hold you and protect you. 

My name is Mr. Alyster Gynn.
And that is not important. 

I am no one. 

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