The gift of a child’s love

More precious than diamonds my children are.
More beautiful than sunsets and roses and rainbows over mountains.

As unique as the finger prints that smear every surface they touch, thus blessing it.

The sound of their laughter rivals symphonies.
The sound of their gentle breath in peaceful sleep, is more reassuring than the locked doors.

The drama of their lives unfolding is more fascinating than any blockbuster or news headline.

And they love me. Even when I’ve told them off, confiscated every toy in sight, banned tv and raged at them. They still crawl into bed next to me, and wrap little arms around my neck, and kiss me with those overly wet lips.

They love me and trust me and that’s the gift.


Losing my Voice


You’re not listening to me,

You’re not listening to me,

Perhaps that’s not it.

You can’t hear me,

You can’t hear me because I’m losing my voice.


I miss my voice,

I miss my voice,

It said things that made me laugh,

It told me to be strong,

It sang to me about the great mysteries.

But now its so so faint and says nothing,

It says nothing because no one was listening.

I Smile.


A poem written originally for my mum when she was dying, but has since become relevant to my experience with depression.

I Smile

I smile because I know no better

I cannot bear to weep.

I laugh because it stops the pain

I find comfort in my sleep.

I smile because that’s how you know me

You could not bear to see me weep

I laugh because it dulls your pain

And so your faith I keep

But if I should let tear drops fall

I know you would forgive me

For then; when I have cried them all

You could be strong for me.

A smile can hide so much behind it

But tears reveal no more,

We wear a mask for others

And crumble behind closed doors