Family

  • The Stories We Tell

    The stories we tell ourselves about what life is, does, means, will make our hearts or break our hearts. The choice, I suppose, is ours. Make, break or both, sometimes. If only the answer were simple. Then again… what is… Continue reading

  • Truth

    I am drinking night-time tea, writing, as if to write to a lover of feelings yet to be spoken. I’ve been in the garden today. I sometimes wish my Nan was still alive so I could ask her: ‘Is this… Continue reading

  • They Know Not What They Do

    Why, when the road is so beautiful, (dappled sun on white) do these lashing tongues slice my delicate sky, so? I shall find a cave, as promised. A dear and perfect home to soothe. And I shall cherish the broken,… Continue reading

  • Far Too Long

    It’s been far too long since I’ve written like this. I’ve just been reading over old diaries, feeling my voice through them, knowing my heart. It made me think of how I used to do that, here. How I used… Continue reading

  • Love Is

    May they find the hours of my love for them strewn upon these coloured pages. May their names shine with my love, and may their eyes light with the truth of all they are. May these hours, and these pages… Continue reading

  • Soft Things

    She floats on the wind as they stare. And they will never know her as their own. Never see her truth as anything other than feathers in the garden. Yet, she knows herself, dear. And she knows, darling softness, that… Continue reading

  • Motherhood

    Motherhood has opened my heart in both expected and unexpected ways. It’s taught me that I never truly knew concepts such as shame or guilt before, or responsibility, or disappointment, or sorrow. And I often get down on myself when… Continue reading

  • The Absolute Truth

    I know the words I’ve spoken are true; they have been wider and further than the ordinary kind. Those words of the heart that stretch across souls, here they are: truth sending forth her deepest moan. The absolute truth is… Continue reading

  • The River Home

    The dancing girl, her sister, her brother, her father and I will be home tomorrow. As usual I’m experiencing mixed feelings about the end of our lovely little holiday, but for the most part I’m wishing the trip would never… Continue reading

  • Infinite

    Love the word is not enough. Love the feeling is infinite. Continue reading