I realise I’ve avoided this outlet,
this relief from ink and words
because my message isn’t bright enough,
clear enough.
Shiny and polished? Not enough.
‘Not loveable when you’re needy…’ worries the inner me.
Yet here, in this space of all things shared,
there’s no need to pretend.
No fawn response needed here
where it’s the honesty,
the brutal honesty,
that heals.
So, here I am again.
Stuff it.

I feel my strength unfold;
it holds my backbone
straighter,
straightened.

The blustery
wind of emotion
whips back my head and heart.
Anticipated jolt—
and stop.

But start again
slowly brewing
circling this issue
with thorny, prickly needles
persisting in their bite.

My spine is still straight though.
Heart may be sore,
but that strength—
still there, still here.

My little ones
racing through childhood
at a speed that feels breakneck.
I love your singing games,
piercing recorder at breakfast,
letters to Santa in July.
Your violins, tickle fests,
colourful plastic and tiny drawings.
Room service dessert,
toys instead of shoes.
Your hugs, your love.
Gappy teeth, smooth hair.
That you always pull scissors first —
never rock or paper.
Learning, learning, learning.
That we can find play—
with deep belly laughing
for the three of us,
across our ages.

Losing my pallor
my joie de vivre
around us.
Feels like a slow leaching
and a looking at the bones
and we’re trying to add
flesh to them

If we look at our strengths,
and work on them,
and amplify them,
then we’ll find
we’re an amazing team.