Poetry

  • Remembered

    The words were simple. A question. A question of heart and soul. ‘If you could be remembered for one thing, what would that be?’ What would that be? And I knew I wouldn’t be remembered for the jobs I’d done… Continue reading

  • Free

    To know the soft skin of my own truth as it peers upon the fears of others. I catch their fear, I hold it. I catch their fear I love it well. And my truth whispers: of this ache, my… Continue reading

  • Sadness

    How small we are in the largeness of it all. Our tiny cries barely heard over roaring humanity. But we each have a sadness, each of us, true. Of your sadness, I say: I hear it. I see it, as… Continue reading

  • Sweet Muse of Mine

    Where do you go, sweet bell? Where do you hide when I long to feel your voice sing through my bones? I only know you; the place I call home. I only know you, dear constant voice of heart, of… Continue reading

  • I Am This

    I have decided there is a way life should be, a way I should be. As a woman. As a mum. As a fictional character plucked perfectly from the sky of humanity. And I run and I run and I… Continue reading

  • Shadow

    In waking dreams I see the past and feel it waltzing me down a sweet, sweet road. Oh, darling days gone by. How lovely to feel you tickle my bones. How lovely to remember the depths that sang to my… Continue reading

  • For Peace

    No. Nothing is more important than peace. Not to me. Me who has faced the wicked fire of others. Me who has held my own heart and felt it break in my hands. I have broken, but I am not… Continue reading

  • I Am There

    Here on this hillside, this sweet patch of earth, I have become. And there is no further to go, there are no wings to grow, I am there. I am there. Continue reading

  • Darling World

    Sleep tight, darling world. How lovely and alive you will be tomorrow. Continue reading

  • The Window

    On days where rain settles on the window, I look to the future with dusty eyes. How does one peer beyond the droplets there? How beautiful can the horizon appear when my eyes are glazed with the muck and haze… Continue reading