In the wood

With each careful footstep
pine needles
the forgotten colours
of a forgotten autumn
softening the sound

she counted

until stars
came out
to greet her

and the moon
to bless her

only then
did she let herself
rest

only then
did she let herself
believe

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a wood in West Sussex

A Story of Love Like a River

They fell in love

Later
they would wonder
if they had ever known the other
if they had merely fallen in love
with themselves

Even later
they would struggle
to remember
the other
themselves
the places their heart
meticulously mapped out

but deep in their hearts
was a solid line
with tributaries
like a river

when the moon was full
and the night was warm
and still
they would float on the surface
gliding on water like glass
and let themselves remember

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Voice

I have
no voice

lost it, perhaps

or merely
forgotten it

This sickness
has changed me
is changing me

turning me
inside out

No
not like a hurricane
or a quick
tornado

More like
a piece of laundry
left out on the line
in a thunderstorm,
twisted out of shape

In the complicated
process
of freeing myself
I have forgotten
my song
forgotten
to sing

I am still
hanging limply
on the line
practicing
sounds
whispering
words
looking
for my voice
in the midst
of the loud
shrieking
of this illness

And I wonder
if
learning to listen
comes first

 

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A Warm Breath


I falter
a lot

Today


I have been
asking questions

Lots of why questions
Some when questions
Lots and lots
of what now questions

And then I felt myself falter
Yet again

I think sometimes
something
as innocent
as a warm breath
can cause a loss
of balance

Yes


But also
a missed
Heartbeat

And so I falter
and catch myself
without waiting
for that warm breath
or a reason
for my heart to beat

Today
I am a lover

of me.

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