I left my other soul
in my late marriage
I'll be more careful with this one

I keep my spare soul
safe with my neighbour
in case I lose this one

My old soul has worn thin
allowing in the cold
but also the sun

My first soul was reliably robust
This new one feels more fragile
and needs holding with care

My soul and I buried our differences
We now spend time focused
on what we have in common

Do not rise gently into the dawning light.
Young bones should relish the pause before break of day.
Let your teenage bones embrace what remains of the night.
Rage, rage against the alarm of light.

Find what you love
Live it, hold it like a long note
Behold it like still-wet art
and it becomes beauty to you.
It becomes magical.
Like family.

Decision to leave
Permission to enter
Right to remain
Hope for peace

I practice the art of receiving art
Not grasping it , not seeking to utilise it
Rather relax-sitting, receiving it
Recognising God's gifting of it
But happy to let it rest
where I can better meet it,
just beyond my practiced insight.

Learn from our Mother Tongues
Dance to our Sister Tongues
Laugh with our Daughter Tongues
and look to our yet-to-comes

After a while they tell us.
We're being held at a signal.
But being held doesn’t feel like this.
When I'm held
I feel warmth.
I feel connection.

Here I feel placed on hold.
I feel a coldness, distance.

I'll wait for a fresh signal.