Waldeinsamkeit – A Poem

Waldeinsamkeit – A Poem

Let me fall down into leaves and soil, the colour of scarlet, deep into the eternal oak of earth, the hollow, the fill of my decadence. Let me lay my head to rest on…

THE APOCALYPSE – A POEM

THE APOCALYPSE – A POEM

The sky is ashen pink from the bushfires south, lightning strikes, thunder growls, the fruit-bats fly out. I think of the preacher’s mouth, telling us in the End Times the…

Spirit is Waiting – A Poem

Spirit is Waiting – A Poem

We will all make our way down that corridor into white light where time stands still, death our guide. If you harbour any doubt your body won’t fall to ash—…

Birthplace – A Poem

Birthplace – A Poem

They say eventually we’re all drawn back to the place of our birth. We must follow the bloodline. It leads to the gold centre of the heart. Even if you…

Incarnation – A Poem

Incarnation – A Poem

Incarnation, when your soul takes flight, high over the cosmic sky; blue, black, sometimes indigo, the heavens hold you until you enter the womb. Azure, the colour of the sky…

But A Thing Called Time – A Poem

But A Thing Called Time – A Poem

If there were but a thing called time, I’d stretch it out like a long rope; I’d thread it through all my past lives, watch all my human drama on…

A Beautiful Dream – A Poem

A Beautiful Dream – A Poem

I lie in bed, unwell, unable to move my body or head. Paralysed, dependent, like a newborn, or the very old. My husband hovers. I feel sorry for him; a…

Time in Her Eyes – A Poem

Time in Her Eyes – A Poem

How I came to suffering blindly, choking, lungs filled with dirt— bare chest, ballet taffeta and shoes, skin the colour of thick cream, she stamps her tiny feet upon the…

Soulstar Lover – A Poem

Soulstar Lover – A Poem

What if I told you you didn’t truly love me, but her. The one who visits when you sleep, wrapping you in her blue arms, telling you she is the…

Beautiful Star – A Poem

Beautiful Star – A Poem

Love—the centrepiece, the missing part of our life puzzle; bright, beautiful star, in pieces, when we aren’t centre stage. Our lives not in scraps or tatters, rather a fine fabric,…

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