The rain falls
my lips soften
Slowly
I remember
to breathe
Waiting
for my world to stop
and the sun to rise
fading
memories
like ripples
in your pond
before it freezes
for winter
Category: Photography
Sometimes healing…[fifteen words]
Sometimes
healing
is surviving
and climaxing
in loving
and falling
and the touch
of you
Seasons Slip
My foot slips
and I slide
the thundering sound
of tumbling rocks
blinds me
until
I can no longer see
or dream
you
My mind slips
and I fall
and curl
into myself
making
the gutter my home
as autumn leaves
cover me
waiting
for the green man
to claim me
again
and I spit
and claw
resisting
fighting
refusing
to surrender
even as death
taunts
until I forget
to breathe
waiting
for snowfall
26 September 2018
Something New
I’ve been looking
for something
new
I want every day
to be the first day
Beginner’s mind
the zen masters call it
Every breath
a beginning
every exhale
a letting go
I get lost
on the road
beneath my feet
where everything
is teeming with life
while my laboured breaths
reek of death
And still I walk on
Looking for something
that feels like a brightly plumed bird
beating its wings against my heart
Is it you?
16 July 2018
Sing for Me
And if
I place my lips
just so
will you sing for me?
25 June 2018
from the English Channel
Crossroads
It is summer
and I am ill
falling
fast
I am listening
to the blues
to Robert Johnson
and wondering
about crossroads
and old roads
and intersecting paths
and the old ways
chants heard
in lush green leaves
prayers
and blessings
witchcraft
It is summer
and I am surrounded
by roses
and lavender
and geraniums
and hanging baskets
with unknown flowers
cascading
over the sides
like a floral invocation
to unnamed goddesses
everywhere
The wind
blows
in the afternoon
It no longer
plays havoc
with my curls
They’re gone away now
wherever it is
illness takes them
At night the air stills
stars sparkle
and glitter
like you once said
my eyes did
It is summer
and I am surviving
loss
and renewal
and relentless sickness
and time
in all its
temporary majesty
20 June 2018
on the Sussex Coast
the fragility of summer
She Lay Waiting
she lay
curled in upon herself
more spiral
than fetal
more sudden stillness
than feral beauty
the forest floor
was damp
with decomposing
birth and death
may-shine slipped
through young
summer leaves
danced across her
naked form
adding light
and shadow
to the streaks of dirt
and blood
painted on her skin
as though
she were nothing
more than a canvass
and so she was
a sleeping
summer
art form
waiting
17 May 2018
