Posted in a remembrance

A dusty road…

A dusty road took me there, to a tin house, unmistakably shanty in appearance, it still had a certain appeal-standing out in the parched scrubland.
Its blushing red roof caught my attention.
There’s no one home now, the shutters are firmly closed and a deep silence rings through the rooftops.
Stillness lies on the soft dune-like earth, where once it bore unrefined food.
A shadowed porch is cool in the summer heat and I can almost hear the echo of Father’s tall tales and the reek of his tobacco.
The outhouse has run dry.
The hallway still remembers the laughter of children and the cockerel crowing in the backyard at dawn. There’s a chimney blackened with soot from an old woodstove.

We had so much time on our hands back then, Mother would peel potatoes to roast with a topside of beef and sip sherry at the kitchen table.
I reached into my memories and remembered when days were simple,
waters were sweet, and the sun sank into my cheeks with no regret.
No-one knew about global warming or ice caps melting then, the TV was black and white, and scratchy records played melodic tunes on the turntable.
The earth was still a wholesome place to live or so I thought as a naïve child.

I played barefoot in the garden, doing ballet on the front lawn
as my brother took snaps.
I watched tiny buds push their way up through the cracked ground
in celebration of a summer downpour.
I’ve reimagined my life that way again, a gaggle of hens
and a flock of ducks clucking away,
scratching the earth for tasty morsels,
pitching their story to me in the late afternoon,
finding a perch before the sun went down, my own little piece of paradise.

I’m ever hopeful of returning to the simple construct of an uncomplicated life, filled with home-grown vegetables, nourishment for the soul, both mental and physical-to a time when we exchanged pleasantries, perhaps even a little gossip with the neighbors and sometimes a cup of sugar or a few eggs.


Posted in Beauty

Look into the middle distance…

“Silence is a source of Great Strength.”
― Lao Tzu

Sit with me a while
and gaze out at the hills,
watch life go by,
get caught up in the thrill
of doing very little,
while dreaming
of other worlds…
drink in the ambience
until hard lines
gently blur…
forgetting all our troubles
we’ll sink
into our bliss,
abiding in the silence,
where fear cannot exist…

and in the middle distance
we’ll find,
that grace is all we have in an uncluttered mind!


Posted in Gratitude


“The sunflower is mine, in a way.”
― Vincent van Gogh

Whenever I see sunflowers I think of Vincent van Gogh and how they must have elevated his mood!

of carefree days,
sunflowers grow
in bright arrays,
overcast moods,
contemplative interludes…

happiness that can be bought,
painting over
gloomy thoughts
in yellows,
and sage greens,
gracious blossoms
have intervened…

Posted in Gratitude

Healing shades…

“Learn what is to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest.”
― Herman Hesse

On evenings like this
in scattered blues,
I’m gratefully drenched
in amber hues,
and feelings call out
for tender blessings
to release me from my
dark obsessions..

My feet had stumbled
on rocky grounds
and confessions broke
in mumbled sounds
that heaved
melancholy sighs,
brooding shadows
that soliloquize..

and laughter moved again
across the skies,
in quiet moments I was being baptized!

now I’m lingering,
in its healing shades,
growing back
as twilight fades
into colors seen
in fluent contrast,
inclement moods
that have come to pass…


Posted in a remembrance

Love never dies…

We have a popular car-boot sale here every month where you can sell junk,
it’s like a yard sale and a whole lot of us get together,
and people come and buy our pre-loved stuff.

I have been clearing out
and it is more than just dust and papers,
it’s my heart.
I find photos of Steve
and his twelve-step books,
a valentine card he gave me,
his writings,
and the Egyptian cotton sheets he slept on,
it’s excruciating!
Some things I still hold onto for dear life,
his cricket bat
and his last box of cigarettes.

I know it seems strange
but those were the things he touched
they connect me to him
they are his beloved things,
earthly possessions
that brought him happiness!

raw hurts like crazy
raw breaks me
I clean out these closets of my sorrow
again and again
but they still find me
in the dust
in the tears
disguised as hay-fever
trickling down my face.

they can’t wash me out

I look through old photographs
and fragments of him
and I am destroyed,
I don’t know if I will survive,
but I hear his voice
through the piles of papers
his favorite books,
study notes,
poems he wrote,
through the terrible suffering he endured
and he always forgave
and he still forgives…

and he tells me to do the same!

he lives on in my everyday dreams,
he is the voice in my head reminding me
that everything will be okay,
he’s my teacher,
a guardian of my secrets
freed now from his Earthly pain…

the car boot sale isn’t big enough
to hold my baggage,
to sell it to the next poor unassuming soul.
I am a hoarder of memories
selling them doesn’t feel like a betrayal,
it’s more like the gradual letting go of indescribable pain,
a catharsis,
or maybe it’s just to forget….

these are the things I must do to survive
I will hold this connection in my heart forever
and we will meet again, face to face,
it’s the sacred vow we made together once
long before my memories began…


Posted in Surrender


“It is important to expect nothing, to take every experience, including the negative ones, as merely steps on the path, and to proceed.”
― Ram Dass

It was an existential crisis,
a sign of the times,
like a reed in the wind
I was blown every which way,
unable to take hold of earth’s loveliness,
like I usually do!

I wanted to find
that elusive escape button
so that I could pretend
that there is nothing  
wrong with the world
or with me.
I was questioning everything,
and for an instant
believing nothing!

You know that feeling,
when you wonder if anything
is actually real
or is being alive just a figment
of your imagination?

Like being outside of your body and seeing an unfamiliar person!

It wasn’t in the pages of a book
or a movie
that I found
the remedy
that brought the magic back.

the mind has its own will
and being stubborn by nature
it goes on a loop, a never-ending cycle
without my permission
pulling me under
until I can no-longer breathe!

It was a glimpse,
a word,
maybe a phrase,
an ah-ha moment,
when I realized I was writing my own story again
before it even happened,
but without a happy ending.
A futuristic novel based on bad evidence
mixed with lashings of self-doubt,
an incoherent babble,
with an apocalyptic ending
where everything falls
entirely apart!

Maybe it was an angelic message
or an intervention of some kind,
an… “alright already, enough!”

I tend to do that,
I tend to make up stories,
some true, but mostly false,
telling myself I’m ugly or useless.

I don’t know where they come from,
they occupy an old groove
in an over-played
worn-out recording?

Not my original earth-song,
spoken to me by Jah,
sung to me by the angels
made in the sacred light of stars
written by the Time Lords
given to me to carry through eternity…

It’s quite overwhelming not to believe in oneself,
it’s like being stuck in quicksand,
and all around there’s a quagmire
of doubt sucking me down,
into a horrible state of powerlessness!

I’m sitting it out now
letting the last fragments of doubt dissipate
the madness runs through my blood
and bleeds out…
I’m watching the rush of waters
as I wait for the moon to pull the tides out…

I promise I’ll try not rage against the storm
even when I see it coming from a distance…

instead I’ll open my eyes
and my heart
and let the light filter in
and I’ll keep on keeping on…

I’ll see those steps before me,
I will admit I’m powerless,
I’ll believe that my Higher Power can restore me to sanity,
I’ll turn over my will to the God of my understanding,

And I’ll surrender….


Posted in Gratitude

Collections of grace…

I was zooming with my brother in the Northern Hemisphere and I realized there are moments that simply take our breath away, I call them collections of grace…

I’ve been captured by silence,
re-learning how to think,
you know those fleeting moments
when the lines becomes distinct?

and the canopy of sky spills from indigo blues
a reimagined life
a captivating muse…

she was cleaning the windows
light caught in her hair
looking out at snowflakes
she didn’t see me stare…

conversations meet
in the soft light
of distant lands,
I pen them in my scrapbook
and my small world expands…

glimpses of radiance, unknowingly caught,
collections of grace,
gold that can’t be bought…

grasses drenched in sunlight, congregations of birds,
shadows at twilight
and a symphony of words…

moments that take our breath away
magical events,
we gaze out at beauty
and quietly repent…

we repent of our grumbling,
we repent of our rage,
we recognize the tenderness
that causes us to change…

And these pieces of eternity
are strung together by light,
circumstances beyond control
are the stories we will write…

Let’s keep watch on the horizon, and wait for the turning tides,
like jewels in the darkness
our light we can’t hide…

I’m looking into the windows of everlasting souls
I am one with each moment
re-discovering how to be whole…

There’s snow falling up north,
windows misty with frost,
I’m a collector of these fragments
keepsakes never lost…

It’s in the visceral moments that we revisit our breath,
we rethink our language,
we recognize our strength…


Posted in lockdown

I heard it on the news…

We have a variant, they say, but the vaccines won’t be as effective, they say, so we need another one, they say. We live in Africa where people are poor, where livelihoods are threatened…Can we survive?
This is just the backdrop to the following piece…

There is so much to say
and the words are jumbled up in my head
the shutters are jammed
and only a thin beam of light emerges
to touch my heart,
is it enough to jump-start the day?

it’s all been too much
the news
the ups and downs
there’s no celebration for us mortals
no fanfare telling us it’s over
no breaking news   

The harmony of senses is grounded
tossed in the dirt
with ant colonies
in a frenzy of movement
searching for life-saving moisture
to quench our parched remains

We look through cracks
into the fabric of time
hoping it will soon be different
the pestilence will be blown away by a mighty wind
there’s no “Doctor Who” to save us
just a melting pot of worry
into chapter after chapter of doubt

I turn the pages every day
waking up to another round of bad news

Always hopeful of a new dawn
I watch bees collecting pollen
and going on their way
still gathering in anticipation
of being rescued
from the dark forces
that threaten
undeterred by the pandemonium!

brave faces in the supermarket
are hidden behind the terror
we are unrecognizable now
shriveled masterpieces
we have almost forgotten how splendid we really are
our faith lies dormant
in pools of the unknown
we wait
but our patience is growing weary
stacked up in doorways
we look out
into the darkness

have we lost our connection to the universe
or can we still stand
and watch the stars long enough
to meld into their light?

Can we escape this madness
and fly to another world
or maybe shrink ourselves into tiny fragments
into close-ups of nature
touching our skin
life-saving devices
resuscitating our dreams
bringing back our confidence
so that we can believe in miracles again!

our hope gets magnified among the soft tentacles of light touching us once again,
warming our bodies with love and grace…

we are eternal beings!