Solstice Lamp

The night - that last night - Thomas came home from hospital, I lit a lamp and hung it outside our gate so, as he was driven back to us, he could see home from the earliest possible moment. I couldn't wait those extra seconds for him to know how much we wanted him back.

The dark is good for me this year, a good time to be trying to brew new life.

But still, the tiny lengthening of the light feels like the world hanging out a lamp for me. I will get home. And if I am very, very lucky, I will see the sunrise.

Almost a rockery

Desperation

The gods
drop crumbs
from their table.
I eat them.
I am lost.


Lies

If it was only
other people
who told me lies,
I would barely
mind at all.


Rain

Rain worms through my dreads.
Carefully, I split my skin,
clavicle to pubis,
opening so the water worms
can make compost of my history
and I can start afresh.


Waiting

Waiting
for something worth stating
...
...
...
frustrating.


Magic

As I sculpt words and colour
to call magic into our home,
my husband simply
builds a door for it to enter.


Patience

If you are lucky,
the patience of the healthy
is in a negative correlation
to the health of the patient.