These Hands

For Lia These hands have held babies,Soothed fevered brows,Held tightly to others in excitementAnd in love. These hands have created beauty,Shaping art from life,Finding the line, the gestureAt the essence. These hands have tied themselvesIn imagined knots,Working over worries and problems –Then releasing them. These hands have crafted feasts,Made a thousand sandwiches,Fed hungry mouths withMore …

14 July 2021

A waterfall of tears.A river of tears.An ocean of tears.Which tributaries must I followTo come to dry land?The water pours, poundsDown in violent sheetsAnd still it is not enoughTo wash awayMy sadness orThis reality.All I see isBlue blue blueAnd the mist risingFrom the water woundWhere each drop lands:A resurrected end. Photo by Stephen Walker on …

Dreams of singing

Isn’t it strangeI keep havingDreams of singing? Or perhaps itIs not strangeAt all. My consciousMind hasForgotten how. But in my dreamsI remember howIt feels. Breath,Sound,Vibration. Is it a memory?More likelyA message. Today I satAt the pianoJust to see. My voice was Quiet butStill there. It survivedAbuse, criticismAnd neglect. Was itBeautiful?Who cares? The pointIs notTo impress. …

Dear pigeons

Based on / a true story I’m sorry I droppedSome wasabi peasDown where you satEagerly under myBench, waiting forWhatever may come. I wanted to tell youIt wasn’t intentional.I can imagine thatWasabi may lead toAvian indigestionAnd beak irritation. Although of courseIf any birds were goingTo enjoy wasabi peasIt would certainly beLondon’s cosmopolitanPigeon population. They just slipped …

Energy: a paradox

Why is it thatThe more energyYou put into lifeThe more energyYou get out of it? Shouldn’t it beThat the more Energy we spendThe less we have?Like emptying outA bank account.But somehow lifeDoesn’t seem toWork that way. For example:The longer I stayIn bed, the moreTired I am,Except whenI really do needTo have a rest.(Like this morningWhen …

Insomnia companion, part 7: Welcoming the Light

Perhaps it has been a long nightPerhaps, the sky is beginningTo take on a different colourBrightening, growing light. What if those wakeful hoursWere not a frustrated wasteOf lonely and unwelcomeAlertness, of misspent rest? What if instead we sawThat time as keeping vigilFor unnamed strangersOr even the world itself. Those hours were not spentIn vain. We …

the space between

between the question and the answer there is a space whether it isthe blink of an eye or an interminable stretch this is the placewhere we all live every birth is a question every deathis an answer and lifeis the state ofjoyous uncertaintythat hoversin the airbetween every breathof our universe Note: I normally love using …

Snapdragons

For Anita For the little girlFor whom flowersWere not enough Unless they couldBreathe fire andNip your fingers I treasure herFierce imagination,Her gentle heart And her eye forBeauty that seesBeyond surfaces Note: I got an email that the Mother’s Day flowers might not have arrived, so I made these instead. Love you, Mama. Photo by Ashkan …

Divergence

For Mother’s Day Fused, viscerallyBlood and boneBodies knittedTogether, whole Then – over timeA gradual shiftingSo small, so slowIt happens invisibly And yet somehowFurther and furtherWe drift apartThe world remakingItself Painless on the surfaceYet violent beneathPressure buildsRivers of magma flowPropelling the futureCracking and colliding Until an ocean stands Between our bodies It’s natural, necessary –How the …

Decisions

The path forksI retreatInto the vacuumOf my whirring mindDetermined to polish my decisionTo a high sheen of certaintyTo imagine a futureSo controlledI can see my own faceReflected in its surface But the faster I spinThe more lost I becomeIn a black holeOf my own creationMy core feels empty, expanding(Was that once a bellybutton?)To a fathomless …