an offering…

Portrait / Travelling

… of a poem that I wrote during my week in Scotland recently…

Iona_xs_42

my mother thinks my life is a going-round-in-circles

barefeet on grass after a snowstorm

I don’t feel the cold

follow the bends

the steps of the many before me

between old stones worn smooth from

pressure, friction and distance then

brought up here by determined hands

I imagine them large

in the centre I find a stone

with thin waves of sediments laid into it – blue, grey, darker grey

carried by waves of the ocean – grey, blue, darker blue

looking for an offering I find a sea shell deep in my pocket

the architecture of the shell

mirrors the architecture of the labyrinth I’m standing in

a sacred order of spiralling circles

turning North across the hills

I rest in the certainty that there’s a shell

tall and white and cresting a wave that’s laid into a stone

from a distant place long ago

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The Author

Writer, Photographer, Craftivist, Facilitator, Mediator, Trainer, Founding Director of deep:black. Passionate about equality & empowerment. And about anger & vulnerability.