Exhaustive Meandering

Across water soaked meadow to the foot of limestone, the rush of too much water, and the sound of decisions taken by rocks unbidden, a mile and more above as the little hut slumps and the young man wonders and waits as the dark gathers and stretches across bearing out the promise of high places,…

Fairy Tales About Death

How escapism and fantasy can teach us about dealing with reality, even when we don’t want to…

Melted Snow and Dried Leaves

The memory of a cup of tea reminds me that you can live with embarrassment better than you can live with regret.

Larches in the haloed house

Whether your life ends with a bang or a whimper is not important, but what that life represented is important

Sleep

Maybe we don’t sleep to be awake, but we are awake to let our souls free when we sleep…

Final Ships Will Never Sink

Sometimes it’s so easy to think of time as a straight line, the way history is a river, moving through from birth to death. As we get older we see those we knew and loved leaving us and this world…

Keeping Memory Sacred

In the face of change and loss, sometimes it is best to let some things stay locked away as they were in a chamber of your heart, so they may still nourish your soul…

Volume

via Daily Prompt: Sound He always liked the television turned up too loud, so loud I  know the maximum volume is ’50’ and that the bar turns red, like the blood from his lungs that gathers in tissues, scattered across the small flat.   Hearing him try to cough out proliferated cells makes me want to […]

War Child: Part 1

Discovering the truth about family history can be upsetting, especially when other members don’t agree with the history. How can we overcome victim shaming and our inherent bias to deny the possibility of these awful realities?

The Promise of Snow

While change is perhaps the only consistent feature in our daily lives, when we step back we can see that our lives will often tend to find uniform rhythms that can prevent us from growing…

Nuclear Winter

Detonate The world is frozen, and the novelty of snow has not yet worn off, that strange, three dimensional crunch as the boy takes each step onto its surface. Nor the way it refuses to melt in his ungloved hand making him wonder if his skin is frozen and he doesn’t realise it.   The sun is not…

Phantom Limbs

Clockwork bees, hedgehogs and heartbeats are the metronome that defines the slow days and wearying nights. The days are long and hot, sunflowers droop in the summer heat, and daily trips to the forest provide a place to escape from the oppressive heat, the volume of the television and the fragile tension as the spectre…