Musings, journeys, adventures
As a quieter person, I sometimes find my thoughts moving more slowly than the conversation around me. This little poem is a reflection on those moments, and on the memory of my dad, who had a quiet way of listening that made space for my voice.
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This is where I did most of my degree: an old corner desk that was never really designed for handwritten notes, but which I gradually turned into a small command centre.
Continue ReadingThis little poem came from finding a gecko beside the back door one morning. It was so perfectly still, and so firmly attached to the wall, that even after I realised it had died I kept half-expecting it to suddenly spring back to life and run away.
Continue ReadingAt the beginning of 2024, I was still finding my way through the loss of my dad. Somehow, in the middle of that grief, I had finished my studies. With that chapter closed, I found myself clearing space, letting go of what no longer felt right and trying to work out what might come next.
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The death of Sinéad O’Connor sent me back to her music. She was part of my generation – Generation X – and listening again, I found myself thinking about why we were so often described as angry.
Continue ReadingThis poem is about losing my dad, and the regret that comes with looking back.
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