Emma

Photo by Alvin Decena Gcash 09561687117 on Pexels.com

This is supposed to be safer than back home. That’s what I thought anyway as I walked the seven miles into Belfast.  I can handle the cold wet pavement beneath me, even though it has me soaked through and is hurting my hip. I’ve got a sleeping bag that some lady gave me. And a bit of cardboard underneath. Her kindness should have made me cry.

Flames

Playlist for this Post Alteration finds. Burns. Conflagration. Heat fading to bring new life. Fed by the cinnamon tree. Fed by want. An awakening. That steady pulse. Approaching thunder. Eyes bright beneath clouds of grey.

The Cancer

Playlist for this Post My words have become stuck. Balding tires drowned in muck. Wheel spinning in the darkness. A stubby pencil lacking sharpness. A tallow candle lacking flame. Aborted fetus with no name. Shame. You came. Blame game.

Parcels

Playlist for this Post Is it any wonder we wander through life, Each of us carrying parcels of insecurity? Some smaller. Some bigger than others. From the moment of birth, Consider those words wrapped in raggedy string, And the brown paper of ‘oh she’s so perfect’, ‘He’s adorable.’ No pressure then. Attach yourself to another… Continue reading Parcels