Silence

Unlike Me

A kind of poem, memoir and statement of an evolving feminism and poetic activism rolled into one. And today… there are some unseen peacemakers in the world who, like the artist or the healer, drink the poison (the shadow, the unlike, the toxic waste) of a place, country or culture to hopefully open our eyes,…

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Poem of La Gomera

My poem of this trip in January 2017 ended up as solid rock-like verses, attempts to convey the feeling of meeting this volcanic frontier, in the landscape and in me. From the meaning of Islas Canarias (island of the dogs), there are little echoes of poets that spirited the experience of finding my own ‘black…

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Because We Are Already Root

This poem is about darkness and light. The language we attach to these polarities. Actually, in the journey of the soul, to the divine, they are the same. It is the naming that divides them. The poem questions, why do we see light as ‘up’, darkness as ‘down’? And what might evolve when these ‘opposites’…

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Poem of Evia II

Walking today, a swathe of shoreline Sprung at me, its stalks giant tall, And still swaying; the feathery grass That we had watched dancing, Brushing against the curve Of July’s pregnant full moon. Then we stood, two standing spoons, Wide silvered faces upturned, With the sea grazing at our backs, It’s rhyming ripples mirroring The cat and fiddle,…

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Poem of the Pelion

In gratitude for the friendship & beauty, and inspiration of The Moving Archetype, Anilio Centre, June-July 2016 I crossed lands to climb this mountain, And the mountain climbed into me. First, it’s fern shadows flickered at my forehead, Second, it’s pines started their moan-song in my mouth, A breath further, it’s springs were pooling silver…

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Poem Of Evia

  There was too much for-giving For me to write a poem today The sound of the lute Is ringing in my ears And I cannot strike a note Of the old song I know. What is the new love chord That is longing to be plucked From this tip of tongue From my inner…

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Edge in the Nature of Things III

Sometimes the ground on which we’ve stood for years- That room, where objects we’ve known rest against its edges, Containing us like signposts on a pilgrimage- That place in nature, where spirit drops our feet So much closer to the grass… Sometimes the ground that has carried us Requires us to lean, fall over even,…

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Bones: A short Story

She came in search of her mother’s bones. By boat, ten days telling tales to the crew about her purpose. This morning she was up at dawn, breakfast bagged, blanketed against the chill, leaving nervously, peacefully the cheap seaside hotel. By seven she was traversing the cliff path across the headland. She remembered how her…

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Write at Night

Back in November last year I was travelling to Greece with my partner and our van was broken into outside a supermarket. It was midday, we were travel-worn and didn’t notice until half an hour down the road. The bags that were snatched contained both of our lap-tops. Symbolic of years of investment as a…

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Only the soul knows we grow best in the shadowlands. We are blinded inside of either total light or total darkness, but…ironically, it is in darkness that we find and ever long for more light. Did you know that even physics is now telling us that what looks like total darkness to the human eye is…

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