Dear Mother, Dear Father

Dear Mother, Dear Father

“The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.” ~ Rumi

As a poet I love Rumi,
I love the weight of his words,
of how the mirror breaks
and many different versions
of truth grow within the family.
Within ourselves too.

A liberated sheep in a post Shepherd world,
poetic landscape of the soul
is my version of truth.
From fifteen to fifty,
a life-changing metamorphosis
which I faithfully recorded.

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When We Were Sisters

When We Were Sisters

I realise how crazy I must have looked
Rushing in like that
With my face all shiny with love
Firmly pressing my heart in your hand

No, really it’s too big just for me
I remember saying
And my writing hand needs a break
Besides, I’d really like to share

Oh look see how it suits you!
Honestly, it looks so good on you
And don’t worry
You’ll soon get used to the warmth

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