I walk down to the Pegnitz river.
I walk along the banks of green and white flowers —
a quiet place of respite,
smelling both sweet and fowl.
Both the crow and the swan venture on its water’s roof,
never daring to enter the house that man has built.

She lay below and looked up to see,
the black eyes of an eager crow
glaring through the glass.

To cry underwater is not impossible, to learn is fatal.

A baby’s cry can never be silenced in the mind of a mother.

A girl with no direction,
pulled through life by a man’s cruel hands,
In the name of the father!
A mother must pay.
But it is only she who knows that water
cannot wash her sins away.

She stares back at the world - taken from her.

Will anyone visit?
Utter sweet prayers?
Send the mocking crow away?

I throw a lump in the crow’s direction.
It scraws into the sky.
The wise swan takes the bread.

Instead of death,
I sent her a swan instead.

the last time I had spoken to ghosts
was when I unbuttoned the world
and took a seam ripper to all its edges
sitting in your old chair
holding the fabric of remembrance
chewing on the mouldy taste of grief
slowly freeing the overlocked words
I had buried deep into the stitches

the thing is,
when I get dressed in the morning
There's always a button missing
There's always a sadness
stuck in the hem

I waited alone in the sterile room
for the surgery, too stunned to even

consider the word ‘goodbye’. Instead, my legs
shivered against the stirrups, as I prayed

hard for a miracle, for a giant "aha!
Just kidding!" moment from the expanding

universe that would never be large
enough to hold space for you. Pity

I received from the ones closest to me,
words murmured to soothe. Yes, I was

grateful — still, in the cloying silence
that crept in months later, I realized:

I alone was left to somehow trudge through
the thick muck of this loss. They expected me

to swim and rise above, and I did, all the while
hoping the currents would pull me under. How

could anyone else truly know what it's like
when your very own body becomes a thief

who turns         hateful           against you,
prolific cells with cold fury driving your demise

to ****** up the very thing
you wanted more than life itself?

It didn't matter,
for he could smell the sea
and thought it just enough
to season the past,
the remembrance,
slowly curling
in the flames at his feet.

Mysterious girl
the snowdrop child,
buried in spring, etched in stone
in a churchyard corner she sleeps alone,
many greedy winters have gobbled up her name
she was never an enigma
because we loved her just the same

You looked so peaceful in your sleep,
When your dreams were the closest they’ll ever be.
Your fingers only grazed the seams
Of a world filled with endless possibility.

The birds still sing, the rivers still flow-
It seems that nothing stops for no one around here.
Your favourite flower sits on the sill;
It knows, somehow, that the sun is due, at any old time.

Although you left so many of us behind,
You left us with a view and it's a beautiful view.
But it would be better shared, with you.
Nevertheless, it's a beautiful view.

I'll meet you when I close my eyes.
You're not so clear there, but it's the closest that I can be.
I look for answers in the sky,
To questions that burn in the front row of my mind.

The sun still shines, the stars still glow-
It seems that nothing stops for no one, anywhere.
I play your favourite song on repeat;
I can almost hear you singing along, for old times’ sake.

Although you left so many of us behind,
You left us with a view and it's a beautiful view.
But it would be better shared, with you.
Nevertheless, it's a beautiful view.