This is a poem I wrote several years ago but it just surfaced again unexpectedly, so I thought I would share. In the northernmost territories, where bald eagles circle their prey Smaller birds are stalked in the open sky by men with pellets of clay Grey wolves run in morning packs across the deep and pristine snow Searching for food in rocky crevices where freshwater used to flow Where fish used to swim, darting silver beneath the springs Birds swept through the clouds with two strong and unclipped wings Myriad stars hung like diamonds in the still and glassy night
Your absence brought me silence. Silence brought me presence. This is the simplest way I can think of to say Thank You.
It has been a little while, I know, and I will write soon about the details of the first few weeks of January, but I wanted to share a thought while I’m waiting for my train to work. It is so easy to put off doing the thing one really wants to do by doing all of the things that are closely related to it, but still not quite The Thing. Let me explain. Have you ever wanted to read a book so much, had it resting there on the couch beside you, unopened, and for some reason spent the
I’m about to go to bed after a good but tiring first day back at school with the children, but I wanted to post briefly about something that’s been on my mind… It has struck me recently that sometimes I actually hamper my own progress because I am frightened. I am talking about spiritual progress, or essentially about coping with a particular difficult life circumstance. I think that many of us do this. In the particular, personal situation I am thinking of (moving on from a complicated relationship) I feel sometimes that I am actually doing a lot better than
Your blankets have been hot-washed, tumbled and donated and your corner of the kitchen is clear and simply a kitchen corner again, suitable for the storage of dustpans and brushes, dinner trays and a box of emergency toys and crayons for the kids. You were my baby and I loved you and I could have sworn fifty times today that you had come trotting shyly into the lounge, seeking a warm lap or my abandoned grey shawl to hide in. Our quiet little opportunist. My heart will miss your sweetness and the contentment of your sunlit dreams. The
I’m sorry it has been a little while since I’ve written. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year! Our festive period was quite strange and emotional, due to the loss of my grandmother, but we enjoyed family time together and really made the best of it. Unfortunately on New Year’s Eve, the day after my grandma’s funeral, we had to take my beloved cat, Maisie, to the vet to be put to sleep. She has been unwell recently, the prognosis was not good, and we knew it was only a matter of time. The