Hunters & Gatherers come in many forms. It began as a need to survive, then when you look at the imbalance in the modern world, it just became greed
I hear them scuffling, scurrying
through the long grass
hunting, gathering
and overhead, singing
the tunes for the dead
ducking and diving they wait
and watch
then, in a flurry
they swoop down
and like those before them
they too scuffle & scurry
poke and peck
Juilant
their feast tucked tightly in their beak
they scarper, in a flap
like a guilty thief
back to their lair
Too good to be true…The laburnum tree is truly beautiful and I loved mine but we learned first hand, its toxicity….. Be cautious of it and things that seem too good to be true…..
She is beautiful
striking in her full splender
unwittingly, she commands attention
Spectacular specimen that she is
she knows no bounds
she will trick you, invite you, entice you
to touch her
beware, be warned
She will cause more harm than good
for she is poison
Her beauty short lived
do not be fooled
golden pendulum
hypnotic
toxic
Golden rain
We don’t have to see them, to know they are there, beside us. But when we still hear their voice, it makes the heart sing.
They say you forget, after a while, what someone looks like or sounds like, after they have passed away. Photos are always a reminder of their faces and in this day and age, we all have so many photos, thanks to our smart phones.
Voices are another matter, unless we have voice messages or video clips to physically hear them. However, today, after unpacking more of my boxes since my move I came across my old letters.
These letters are one my prized possessions. I have had them since I was 14 years old…..quite a long time ago. I knew they were packed away safely in storage but whilst they were there, my dear dear friend Jackie died. We had our last facetime in September, the night before she passed, and said our goodbyes.
Today I re-read her letters which she had written to me back in 1980. As I read them I could hear her voice, her expression, her tone, her giggle, her humour and her warmth. It was truly wonderful. In reading them she brought me back to my teens when we were full of angst, emotion, humour, confusion, sorrow and love….pretty much the same as I feel now, so nothing changes!
To Dear Jackie,
I still miss you, but thanks for it all. Keep talking to me.
Love you always x
Hello God, remember me
I used to write you, when i was wee
A little child so innocent,
I write to thank you, and to vent.
You were my friend when i felt afraid,
You kept me going whenever i strayed
I couldnt see you, but knew you were there
Listening and watching and answering my prayers.
So now dear God ive a favour to ask,
Take special care of my dear dad,
He’s left us now, gone back to you and its hard to feel happy when I feel so blue.
I know i miss the sound of his voice
And all the times that we’ve enjoyed
Please dont let him feel afraid
And tell him that the love has stayed.
Thank you dear God, for always being there
Even when life,, just doesn’t seem fair…..
like night and day, sun and rain, one will follow the other and its our response and attitude that helps us survive
I love the drama of this tree. Its, been striped of leaves, its provided shelter, its been battered and bent, twisted and straight. Its reaching up and dancing in the rain… Its survived and continues to grow…. Gotta respect resilience and endurance…
Death, of course, is part of life. When it comes to our door, it is very hard to navigate through the pain and loss, but grieving means they were loved, as were we.
When a flower, a tree or person dies it doesn’t do so, without leaving its mark, its stamp, its impact or its seed behind. It may be un-living, but it leaves something behind that keeps it alive.
Nine days ago, my father died. It was a sudden passing, unexpected. It has shaken us, his family and left us unsteady on our feet. I am still grieving the loss of my very dear friend, who passed, Seven months ago.
What I have come to know in this grief, is that I must go through this process, feel this pain, navigate a way forward through the fog and learn to live with the fact that I will not see them again.
What I also know, is that, even though I won’t see them again, does not mean that they are not with me or near me. I think about them both, every minute of the day. I talk about them both several times a day and I talk to them both, every day too.
My grief and pain for my dad is still very raw and I guess, I have had a trial run at grief, when I lost my friend, so I know what to expect.
I also know I have to be thankful, for the time that we had, grateful for the good times and blessed to know that I was loved by them and happy in the knowledge that I loved them both dearly.
It is never easy to lose a parent and even though my dad was 81, we still hoped for more time with him. There is never a good time to die, I guess. Having said that, I am glad he did get to 81, because so many people do not, including my friend.
Those of us left behind, are the seeds, the impact, the mark and we have been stamped by them, with their love and affection and it is that, which will carry us through the pain and gravity of the loss. We must hold on to the good times, remember them fondly and know that we were loved.
R.I.P Dad, til we meet again……
Eternity
Voices, noise, placed on hands
Staring ahead, nodding
Wetted cheeks, can’t stem the flow
The oak box raised on the
Shoulders of black suits
Slow uniformed steps, synchronised
And I am there, following
Disbelieving somehow, that the patriarch
No longer will walk beside me, hold me, comfort me
And as he is lowered into the dark deep hole
My heart breaks open
And his love, his spirit, his soul is stored deeper in it
And is locked in there
For eternity….
victims of circumstance, born by chance into the family, the county, the colour, the culture, the life that we live. Promises, rituals, beliefs are not, necessarily, set in stone….
Traditions….
Traditions of times gone by
Propelled to a future unknown
Baptism, communion, 21st, marriage
Symbols of becoming
An admission to a way of life
a cleansing of the past from where we came
a reminder of greatness, responsibility, hope
a journey to follow and participate
in the future that, has now arrived
the landscape unrecognisable
from when the tradition had been set
yet, here we are accepting, expecting, ritualising
and deciding which part of the responsibility and hope
we will participate in
and which we will discard….
Sometimes I still pinch myself that I made it through motherhood with everyone pretty much unscathed. I have raised my own and other people’s children, being a mother and foster mother and at times, it was the hardest job EVER, but the most rewarding, so now, it’s ‘me’ time and I am loving it!
Today I’m having a fat day, a lazy day
A day where I can loll around
In my dressing gown
I love having a fat day
It is full bodied, full of self- love and indulgence
It starts with a lay in bed, reading
Eating breakfast and not minding if the crumbs fall onto the sheets
After a while I nod off for another snooze
I awake again, put on my dressing gown and head downstairs
I have a cuppa and maybe a biscuit or two
And wrap my hands around the warmth of the cup and my dressing gown
Tightly around me
I read some more of my book, curled up on the sofa and put the fire on
Cosy in my living room, soaking up the fullness of just ‘being’…
Later I will turn on the TV and flick through the channels until something
Grabs my attention. I may watch it for an hour or two or for the rest
Of the day until it is time, to go to bed again
In between, I will head into the kitchen and eat and nibble and pick at
Whatever I choose to eat, whatever, takes my fancy
And I won’t feel one bit guilty
Why?
I won’t feel guilty because I have spent my days, working, fetching and carrying
Raising children, keeping house, putting other people first, putting myself to the back of the queue
Except for the occasional treat.
Mums, all over the world are on the marathon of motherhood and it is exhausting, exhilarating, heartfelt and heart breaking. We fight, we fix, we do. We just do. We get on with it and we get lost in it. The girl you were, that carefree girl, before motherhood, she is gone. She is hiding in the body of the mad woman working from morning ‘til night, full of sleep deprivation, spinning plates and trying to please EVERYONE and in the process there is no time or very very little time, for her to please herself.
So now, now that my nest is empty, 33 years later, of getting lost in motherhood, I can, without guilt or remorse, please myself and have a great big fat day to myself and enjoy it wrapped up in the warmth of my dressing gown, and in the knowledge, that the job I did of being mother, was a success. My Children are a success, they are wonderful human beings getting on in the world on their own journeys, full of their own adventures, and I couldn’t be happier for them….. or me!
Creatures of habit, the birds build in any chimney, nook an cranny and return year after year., until someone or something gets in their way, it creates a loss and a gain for all involved.
Persistent in the building, the jackdaw
Searched and found
The twigs, the moss, the leaves and tuft
All settled on the ground
He swooped and gathered and up he flew
To place them in the pot
Chirping merrily and proudly
Preparing to weave his lot
His stash, lined bricks and mortar
A home to build his nest
Only to find he’d been locked out
When off he went to rest
The cowl they placed upon the pot
His access had been denied
Not merrily chirping any more
His dreams for ‘home’ had died
No more the morning singing
Inside the house could be heard
Now only a strange quietness
Oh how they’ll miss this intelligent bird
But off he flew, quite undeterred to build
Another nest
A home, a house a habitat
Of where his chicks can rest
Resilient is this little bird, he’ll seek and he will find
a tree, or steeple, a nook or cranny
he will not be confined
for he is ever working, with tenacity and grit
he will not be deterred, he will just get on with it
and so the chirping will stay with him as he sings
his sweet sweet tune
and where the chimney has been blocked
no twittering lifts the gloom……
Relay shun ships 
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