Dusk

Britishness, Daily Life, Poetry, Writing

In the hum, alert and tired,

A mind swims. Morrison

Sha-la-las from tinny old

Pub speakers. Heavy-ringed

Hands rest on scratched leather arms.

Crumbs nestle into cracks in age-

Faded upholstery. Once

Proud Patterns, too tired to try,

Sag and fray under the long

Weight of time. And in the low

Buzz, wired and slow, a mind swims.

Published by ThinkingInk

I write because it makes things better. I love singing, dancing, reading and listening to people. I believe it’s ok to feel however you actually feel and that the word ‘should’ should be banned. I am aware of the irony in that sentence. I have an incredibly soft, black-and-white cat called Elwood, who loves yoghurt and ham. I have struggled a lot with depression, anxiety and OCD. I have had some brilliant therapy and some that was less good, but I firmly believe in therapy. I have two children, who are both wonderful and maddening (aren’t they all?) and now I’m studying again. When I feel rubbish, writing helps me find my way out of the maze, channelling my feelings and centering me again. I’ll keep writing because it’s good for me but if it interests other people too, then that’s really great. I believe that self-compassion is at the root of wellbeing and that when we are kind to ourselves, we are kinder to others too. I believe that the phrase: ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me’ is the most unhelpful pack of lies we could possibly tell ourselves. Words can hurt, and they do, but they can also heal. Words are extremely powerful.

Published