You begin this way: this is your hand, this is your eye, this is a fish, blue and flat on the paper, almost the shape of an eye This is your mouth, this is an O or a moon, whichever you like. This is yellow. Outside the window is the rain, green because it is … More You Begin (Margaret Atwood)
On the eve of the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death, I have recorded a reading of a poem I wrote and posted on the 11th August, 2011. I was deeply moved once again reading all the comments on the original post, and I wish to thank to everyone who has shared or supported me … More My Mother’s Hands (audio)
love is more thicker than forget more thinner than recall more seldom than a wave is wet more frequent than to fail it is most mad and moonly and less it shall unbe than all the sea which only is deeper than the sea love is less always than to win less never than alive … More love is more thicker than forget
There are times I miss my mother so intensely I feel destabilised. I close my eyes just to see again her familiar gestures and expressions. I am amazed how simply the fact of her existence in the world used to be such a great comfort, even when we hadn’t spoken in weeks, living continents apart. Mostly, these … More Missing
She came to us from trauma: Born with HIV in her blood, Neglected; withdrawn. She didn’t know how to play With the toys placed before her. Over the months we watched her transformation – Her smile emerged, gradually, Until it would brighten any room With its mischievous spirit. As she learnt to play, To talk, … More A Final Breath
Gentle sun-caress on Autumn-cooled skin, Heart opening to embrace the dawn: I am renewed.
Soles joy-blistered from Dancing in the autumn gold, Bidding welcome to darknening days. I threw back my head and laughed, whooped In a room of swirling energy and shared delight. We twirled and leapt, Stomped and stretched, Sweated our prayers and opened our hearts As we bid farewells to old patterns And cleared space for … More Autumn Equinox