Countless others Have likened the rain to tears, or tears to rain. The comparison should have lost its potency through reiteration Yet, sitting watching drops trickle steadily down the window, I can think of nothing but how they would feel on my cheek – Cold rather than hot and salty, Expressing my sorrow when my … More unshed

Facing the Shadows

My mother’s favourite author was Ursula K. Le Guin. After many years of dreaming of it, she finally wrote a letter to ‘her Ursula’, expressing how important her writing had been to her, and she received a brief – but delightful and heartfelt – reply. I stumbled across it when I was back in South Africa for … More Facing the Shadows

Giving Sorrow Words

I read a little of Rebecca Abrams’ ‘When Parents Die’  this evening, which my friend Garry, whose father died while he was 12, lent me. It arrived with a heart warming note inside: ‘I hope that when you find time to read this book, you find solace. I know I did, even after many years! … More Giving Sorrow Words


I have been thinking and talking a lot recently about identity and creativity. In part of an email to a friend, Onke, last week, I wrote “I wonder if we all struggle to some degree to acknowledge or recognise our ‘true self’? It is such a flexible and constantly changing thing, responding to our environment … More Multiplicity

Dream-time Revelations

I had what felt like an enormously important dream last night. I had been reading a book called ‘Motherless Daughters’ before going to sleep, and I was clearly trying to resolve some of the issues it raised for me, but I am grateful for the gentle way my mind went about this process.

My Mother’s Hands

Her hands, strong and articulate, Drawing air-pictures Whilst describing new perspectives.   Digging earth to bring its bounty forth, Or climbing rock – She touched the world, and so it touched her back.   Her hands that bathed my newborn flesh; They wiped my tears, And across distance wrote to soothe my fears. Those hands … More My Mother’s Hands