I Have


I have
a tiny little
incision in my arm

I can still see
my blood
the transparent

I have
a tiny little
a vein
to my heart

They will spend
six months
pumping poison
into my heart
killing off cells
delivering death
and those
delivering life

I wonder
not for the first time
how many indignities
must my heart
continue to endure

You see

I have
a tiny little
that continues to beat
against all the odds

If I am
very still
I think
I can
hear it


Irish Hearts

This is an old photo of Temple Bar in Dublin (circa 2005). Erin go Bragh!

It’s St Patrick’s Day, one of my favourite holidays. I like to think there’s a little bit of Irish in all of us.

Unbelievably it’s snowing. I think they’re calling it the Mini Beast from the East.

I’m sick in bed. Can’t keep anything in my stomach and I haven’t even started Chemo yet. That’s been moved up to Wednesday.

So I’m resting, trying to build up some stamina for the coming ordeal.

Some days, like today, instead of thinking about the future and uncertainty, I think of all the places I’ve been.

It’s a kind of wonderful thing.

Narcissi in my back garden. I love it when Spring comes creeping in.

Sunday Morning

It’s morning still

My old girl
is curled up tight
at my feet
lightly snoring
her doggie snore

It sounds like a purr
like contentment

The wild eyed Springer
has gone in search
of a bed
without stacks
of partially read books
piled too high
with rows
of sentences
never completed

It is not quite spring
and not quite winter
and I am not quite me




I have been thinking
about silence

Embracing it
Listening to it

There is that
lovely silence
born out of

And that forced silence
that occurs
when you are afraid
to speak
to make a sound

And then there is
that silence
that slips
through the cracks
when living
is just too

When you have reached
your limit
for awhile

You close your eyes
go still
and wait

I saw where I will
be receiving
my chemo treatments
for the next
five months

I have a list
of all the possible
dire side effects

Some of them traumatic
like the loss of your hair
and your eyebrows

Some of them deadly
like septicaemia

The oncology people
are worried about me

It’s in their eyes,
their gestures,
their softened voices,
the way they feel the need
to just touch me
as if they could hold me here
with their touch

So today
I have been
in a state
of too much

too much to think
too much to dream

I am quiet

The silence around me
is a heavy cloud
shielding me
from the harsh
realities of living


Until I wake up



Watching Grass Grow

We are all
molecular beings
cellular happenings

It’s a knowledge
we carry
in our bodies

Only rarely
do we let it
become our reality
let time
and space
slide away
open ourselves
to all that is

The snow is gone now
a carpet of green
is pushing through
hard winter ground
intent on survival

A cold sun
and a damp earth
enfold me
where I lie
on an empty field
beneath a big sky
grass grow


The Call [a drabble]

She had been dreading this appointment. Her steps were slow and leaden.

She sat across from him holding her leather satchel tightly in her lap. The lights were too bright. They were making her head throb and eyes swim in and out of focus.

One by one he pointed out every single dragon she would have to slay just to stay alive.

This call to adventure she would never be able to ignore.

She and her supernatural helper were breathing the same air but soon she would be alone and on her own with poisonous talismans flowing through her veins.