The memorial bench, a seat in the mystery of time, where I can sit, and my heart swell with the beauty of the place where he sat and contemplated the view. —————– The mist far out to sea cooled the sultry spring air, Silent, eyes closed, no wind and somewhere not far a bud opened,… Continue reading The Hearth of the multitude.
Month: March 2022
A Sacred Moment
interrupted my daydream with a loud, clear call
Ukraine and Evil
She stepped over the grim reminder that somewhere, someone wants her dead, harried, frightened, threatened, fastened to her people by a thread of vile, red evil that looks to reject what was not perfect – but was the way they lived, and gave of their best for their nation and now they ration their food… Continue reading Ukraine and Evil
The Rainbow
The arching rainbow cleared to trees and came to earth in the city, The colours vibrant and the ghost of a second beginning to shine, A vibration ran through me as I stared in awe and saw the truth that love and grace are all colours and so we celebrate our diversity as the bow… Continue reading The Rainbow
A Cracked Pot
The pottery wheel brings the writhing clay to life, its whirring pulses through the hands, moulding the sticky gooey mess, growing its potential and finding its nature through touching, loving and caressing the dirty lump until it reveals its hidden glory. — Steadily the rhythm grows and a shape is formed, a vessel glad to… Continue reading A Cracked Pot
War on children
He has sent these children into terror
War on Pregnant Women
It was the pregnant woman cradling her hope that shook me, a brave baby born to turmoil, no real future, freedom of speech and the liberty to choose a path where hissing missiles and guzzling guns will not overwhelm the fragile life that sparks behind closed contented eyes. – A year ago a couple’s loving… Continue reading War on Pregnant Women
My Country’s Shame
The shame falls on me like showers of hail, it drums on my burdened head. And I want it to help me shed my skin and bury me but- Would I be a whitened sepulchre? Faceless with my nation’s baseless and graceless way of torturing small children by turning them back, rejecting their cries because… Continue reading My Country’s Shame
The Trumpet Call of Spring.
( or Hope Denied) The saffron centred crocus shone against the dark earth, petals gently unfolding inviting the invasion of light and insects tending their pollen, enabling production of tapestry in grass; and secretly new bulbs grow ready to bring joy and luminescence to the troubled world. ———- Floating on the breeze bees hover, seeking… Continue reading The Trumpet Call of Spring.
The Murder of the Innocents.
The child’s eyes are closed
and her heart stops beating.
War showing again its yellowed
face of cowardice and words