Cleave

The first time somebody breaks your heart. Not just the pulls and strain that muscle endures – but this. A tear. Right through. (The first time you understand what people can really do, this history of holocausts and butchery they teach at school – you remember the foundation shake, the devastation. Nothing – or lifeContinue reading “Cleave”

In every beginning an ending is written …

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” – TS Eliot, Four Quartets I’m a better person for knowing you. For this invitation into your world, and the people you loved. I know why they loved youContinue reading “In every beginning an ending is written …”

Love?

There is no lover’s dictionary. No universal definition to the flutters and thuds of the human heart. Love exists in the language of private metaphor, in the image sought through fingers reaching, through eyes slow-closed and teeth on lip. See, I could fill rooms and mouths to understand just what it was you did toContinue reading “Love?”