Saturday, 28 December 2013

Truth and Love

This moment I am struggling
with Truth and Love
and their shape shifting ways
fickle to
time of day
the weather
they were roots
running deep from an ancient tree
 brittle leaves clinging in howling winds
I will take up a pot of sap and a paintbrush made of moss
and paint my skin
with my own sticky mess of them
A barrier against bitterness

Friday, 29 November 2013


This is not a new life
as often I have heard
right there amongst all the you shoulds
and you needs
My heart is full with the good intentions
that I see reflecting under the slick of all those words
This simply is a life

Sunday, 20 October 2013

To a man 232 kms away

Sometimes sadness creeps in
not with tiny bites of gluten bombs
but in memories held within samosas heady flavours
or the crisp smell of fallen leaves
or the deep brown depths of a strangers eyes
Moments gathered day by day
And stored in satin pouches in our hearts
We forget
We walk forward into altered days
Revel in new moments
embrace fresh touches
welcome healthier breathes on tender necks
 we forget how intertwined we still are
Each brush with another connecting us
in a vast and beautiful spider web of humanity
And this is how is should be
Even devastated
and afraid
I who have been these things
and you who have as well
Love as a word seems trite
but as truth
is everything

Saturday, 28 September 2013

I kissed him
Underneath the overgrown branches
with thistles brushing our knees
Broke bread with her on a
table covered in years of pine cones
and rain
This place I wish to make a home
for what is home but a place
to love the ones we love
A heady mix of emotions
Excitement and trepidation
building new
sweeping cobwebs out of corners
Wishing to do it together
gathered and laughing
so it is not just my home
but walls stuffed with the
straw and love of many
I kissed him.
Dead flies strewn about the floor at our feet
Or did he kiss me?

Monday, 26 August 2013


I didn't know
For sale signs on front lawns
could suck the breath from ones bones
I thought
I had done my letting go
in small increments of
grey strokes of paint
and cardboard boxes packed with
If home is where the heart is
What do you do
when you've poured your heart into a home?
And then its time to go
How do you gather the places
 where your boys drilled holes
into hardwood floors
took first steps
plugged toilets with pretend cars
Is it possible
to neatly box it all up?
and lasts
angry dents made from thrown chairs
the hurts and hurtmaking
the loves and lovemaking
I didn't know what I didn't know.

Friday, 23 August 2013

Tuesday, 20 August 2013

Magpie Grief

He stood in the middle of the road in front of me
The broken body of his love
in a pile of black and white feathers
on the gravel side
As bold as a magpie always is,
Letting me choose if he should live or die
in his corvid grief
I was struck once again
at the many faces of grief
The big man that stood in my office
filling the space behind his dark sunglasses with tears
the quivering hairs on his mustache betraying him
The mother with birdlike bones
that I hugged too hard, forgetting how raw a body feels
with a soul stripped bare
The deep vat of silence that we dip into
Jars of ashes left in cupboards
Cold bodies left stiff in morgues,
as if to pretend that death can somehow be controlled
And so I aimed my wheels to pass over him
Spoke to him in the space of my car as if he could hear me
that it was not my place to choose for him
between life or death
and over I went
After the wind had stopped ruffling his iridescent feathers
and I was able to catch my breath once more
Away he flew

Wednesday, 14 August 2013


And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. 
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. 
 Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
-Mumford & Sons

Tuesday, 23 July 2013


Yesterday my family received the kind of news no one wants to hear; of a boy, dead at his own hands at the age of 14.  It made me turn the outside world off, including any photos, and I spent the night with tangible things I could touch and feel and know to be true, even for just the moment of one night. 
I'm not sure what to do with today.  Life carries on with all its emotional high and lows and sometimes they all seem to be rolled into one day.  Hope you all are surrounded by those you love, and please tell them that you do. 

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

Dear 2133,

I wonder if you will ever know just how much I have loved you.
Slowly Letting Go

Friday, 28 June 2013

I hope that you are well
and happy
and happily satisfied
exactly where you are
I hope you are spending every moment
in the very spot that you stand
With love
On this day.

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

We are all wonderful, beautiful wrecks. 
That's what connects us -
that we're all broken,
all beautifully imperfect.
-Emilio Estevez

Sunday, 16 June 2013


I am letting go
With each blossom that unfurls to my eyes
and each petal that falls to my feet
loved ferociously these passing years
the possibility of leaving them behind
hanging heavy in the fragrant air
This dirt tucked tight beneath my fingernails
and smeared abundantly across my children's skin
A thousand goodbyes I am needing to whisper
Before me lies a vast expanse of unknown blessings
as surely as behind me lies a path
of known ones
There is only one way to begin
and that is
with a breath

Monday, 27 May 2013

The Shape of Things

It is easy to spot the abundance
of some things in my life.
What shape do you suppose courage comes in?

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

If I had been alone

If I had been alone,
I would have wept.
Laid myself down on that land that I love
tucked my heart tight against the ferns and wood violets
right there beside the stream
and let the tears flow
How is it possible to love a ground so much?
To ache with missing
the changing seasons
woodpeckers on widow makers
the way the light falls on brand new poplar leaves
 silver dollars of hope
and the smell - oh the smell
I was not alone.
I walked beside a soul as soothing as the heal-all plants
that grow along the path
who does not know the balm that's been applied on my chapped and tender heart
Who I love in ways that are unexplainable
and unmeasurable
but not enough
If I had been alone
I would have wept

Thursday, 2 May 2013


This photo is by my beautiful friend Patricia, whom I have never met, but love dearly.  She posted it for her 365 project with an invitation for words and this is what happened...
You can find her (and another friend of mine, Mrs Crow), at and

Tuesday, 23 April 2013

An invitation to grieve

There is that moment in grief
when it clutches your breath
and you wonder how you will ever snatch life back,
how you are certain your lungs have forgotten how to draw
 then it snaps back like a cruel rubber band
the air returns
and all you want to do with that one precious breath
is wail
so all the world can hear
so everyone stands still for just one moment
so the clouds stop their constant sweeping of the sky
and the magpies quit their ceaseless conversations
you want to yell at ever passerby
The seeds of my kin have spilt on the earth
Cry with me
let our collection tears fall on fertile soil
so that new life may grow

Saturday, 20 April 2013

Monday, 15 April 2013

Friday, 5 April 2013

A Macabre Tale of the Bloodsucking Kind

She once had a dream  that she lay down in the river
In the midst of a moment where the air was so thick and hot
that the mountain fed waters offered the only breath of freshness.
She walked across rocks slippery with algae and
tossed with empty shells of long gone dragonflies -
like crusty ghosts of lovers - brief lives
metamorphosized in unknown skies.
She slid her body amongst their past - into a slow eddy, warmed and glistening.
She lay down in the river -still and long-
till leaches came and kissed her tired soul
with their slender hungry bodies
and sucked the sin out with her blood.
And then she rose
out of the waters and out of her sleep
Scrubbed her body - red and clean - in a shower scalding hot
Opened her windows to a rain soaked spring day
And dreamt that dream no more.

Wednesday, 3 April 2013


“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning, but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.”
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Friday, 29 March 2013

Releasing a love

I took your advise Ms.Oliver
I broke my heart open
I paid attention (maybe not as much as I should have)
I was astonished (more than I've ever been before)
And while a giant part of me wants to rail against him,
hurl words and curses and questions and explanations
I can see that he is just surviving
Living in a world where truth
and wonder
and gentleness are foreign objects
And maybe that is what hurts the most
That love,
offered with an open and genuine heart
was an impossible gift to accept
As for me.
I am broke open.
I am bare and raw and more than a little sad.
But watch now- how I start this day
in kindness
 I will not close my heart again
to the rest of the world.

Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Why I Wake Early

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety –
best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.
~ Mary Oliver ~

Tuesday, 26 March 2013


 yet again,
 at how easily the day can shift. 
 From fairly terrible to everything is all right. 
With a stone.
And it is oh so random, and unexplainable. 
But I want nothing more than to give this to the young one,
just barely a man,
 who still is hiding behind hair, and clothes, and clouds of green smoke. 
For I am fairly certain he has no idea, how loved he really is. 
Instead I slip it into my pocket. 
 Too scared,
 to give up stones of love as easily as the ground.

Saturday, 16 March 2013


“I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.”
Mary Oliver

Saturday, 9 March 2013

The Gifts They Give

They may never really know
the little things I treasure.
Marbles in the sunlight
A vintage water glass on my windowsill
Heart shaped rocks
These little gifts connecting us
And I hope they know that I loved them.
Love them still
Every beautiful soul who has stroked
the playdough of my heart
Into the shape I am.

Friday, 15 February 2013


It rolled off his tongue in the form of a question.
Hoping for a better description
 as if he wanted to move it from what it is into something more concrete.
As if I would disagree with the sentiment.
But I hadn't realised it was missing,
until it went bouncing around the room.
The truth of it in a word.

Thursday, 14 February 2013


A chili valentine to myself.  Keeping it real.  :)
To all of you that I love,
 I hope I somehow tell you everyday of the year,
 not just this day.

Friday, 1 February 2013


So he goes, "Goodness' sake,
You're so...
Snowy, downy, pure." So
I'm like, "Oh Drake."
-excerpt from Am I pig enough for you yet? By Roy Blount Jr.-

Friday, 25 January 2013


I didn't have time to stop this morning
And capture the almost full moon as it set
The atmosphere squishing it into a wobbly orange misshapen thing
There was no way to grasp the shooting star
Or the buck and doe on some early morning date
They were in and out of my life so quick
I could have stopped on the way home
And fiddled until I could show you exactly the perfect line of blue
then pink
Then fat full moon as it rose again
But I was too anxious to see my boys.
And it really is impossible to take a photo whilst playing hide and seek in the dark....
So this, at the end of this day so long I am almost too tired to remember how content I am
Is all I have to show for it

Thursday, 24 January 2013


My computer was having trouble talking to itself. 
Think I got things running smooth again.
Finding my 365 project oh so challenging but oh so fun.
This one is still making me laugh.
You can follow along on flickr if you want the daily scoop.
Hope your new year is thus far sumptuous!

Friday, 11 January 2013

Seems to me 
the colder it gets
The more beautiful it becomes.

Sunday, 6 January 2013

The First Few Days

Loving my new camera lens. 
Trying my best to participate in a 365 self portrait challenge with a group of beautiful ladies I have come to love.
Saying once again how blessed I am with the people in my life. Truly.

Thursday, 3 January 2013

A New Year - A New Word

Today is the start of my new year.
I am being pampered in all sorts of sumptuous ways.

I wanted to share with you a photo but alas my computer and I are not talking well,
I will have to save it for another day.

My word for the year....
luxuriously fine or large; lavish; splendid

Ooooh, how could one resist a year such as that?
Not I!

And so it begins.......