January 2, 2016
An Elegy to Sheffield for 2016
Unfortunately a hangover that hits those who cannot drink it the hardest.
Unfortunately a hangover that hits those who cannot drink it the hardest.
The true new beginning is to live stripped, willing and wilful at the starving edge of brightening days, where solstice endured yields to winter birthing spring.
These wisps of disconsolation are a fleeting eulogy to falling, a carol to the withering season.
Does absence becomes presence, a sacrament of holding— latent as I evoke you now and a young girls hand slips into mine?
see us and believe
I curled my hand around its grace; it touched my soul like a mother’s face.
Then when the stars tumble from the sky at the end, our shining will illuminate scars on love’s invincible face.