When the River Becomes Your Home


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When the river becomes your home, when Virginia, with stones stuffed deep in her pockets, seems more romantic than tragic, you learn two things about yourself.

First, you were born in the wrong time and second, you’ve reached the limit of what you can handle in this nightmare called life.

It doesn’t mean you won’t go on. It doesn’t mean you won’t keep putting one foot in front of the other. It just means you’ll never be the same. It means the joy of walking is lost in a tempting image of Virginia with stones stuffed deep in her pockets.

Photos by Robin Dalton

Climping Beach, Sussex

Keeping Vigil

She stirs her cauldron
While watching
The stars dance
A unique configuration
A tragedy of timing
Some might say
But still she stirs
And in the mesmerising
Swirl of liquid magic
Spirals down into
Her own abyss
While the stars dance
And the moon watches
Keeping vigil
For her safe return


The Moom on the Beach at Hastings, East Sussex 

Lingering Rose



We create
And recreate
Every single day

And sometimes
Just sometimes
The heart of us
The good in us

Like that late rose
Hanging for dear life
Onto that fragile vine

When all the other
Roses have fallen
To grace the lavender
Patiently waiting below
Creating something new
A sudden floral sculpture
That silently moves
With a breeze
Just on the edge
Of cold, a foretelling
Of the magic to come

But that happens later
Today a rose refuses
To stop blossoming
And hopes she’ll be
For her beauty
Even when time
And circumstance
Cause her to wither
And eventually die

But not today
Today in this
Too brief moment
She is merely
A lingering rose
Trying so hard
To be beautiful

Hanging on to life
And the slight chance
She’ll catch your eye
And illicit
The smallest sigh



Seasons or Is That What Love Is?


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Today I find myself wondering
Do we change with the seasons?
When we don all those extra layers
do we wrap layers around our hearts?

Today I rushed outside at the sight of the sun
Forgetting my coat, my gloves, my scarf.
For a moment I paused, almost turned
But instead found myself shivering
Watching a squirrel scamper down a tree
While a tiny bird chattered it’s good morning to me
And I couldn’t bear to miss any of it.

Is that what love is?
Being willing to shiver a bit…
All for the sake of not missing any of it?


A Thing About Love


sometimes I wonder if
maybe you can love someone
for so very long you forget
that every time
they say I love you
they are offering you
their heart

sometimes I wonder if
we forget
that every time
we are offered
our lover’s heart
our lover’s trust in us
faith and belief in us

we need to stop
for just a moment
let ourselves breathe in
the essence of him
as if it were
the very first time

because it is

every time
is the very first time


I Want It To Rain



I want it to rain
Not that constant
Steady, never ending
Falling from the sky
Cleansing rain

But thunder
And lightning
A torrential down pour
One that destroys everything
In its merciless path

I want to be
Wiped clean,

Every weak
and so very badly
constructed foundation
every shaky structure
I’ve built to lie in a heap
of useless rubble

I want my once was
To be not any more
I want to be something else
I want to be not this

Will you destroy me
Until I am nothing?

And then help me
Rebuild something of value?
Something of permanence?
Something worth loving?
Something worth cherishing?
Something worth nourishing?
Something worth keeping?

I want it to rain.


December 2015 Full Moon Horoscope Affirmations

These are truly wonderful.

Embodied Astrology

Read affirmations for your sun sign and rising sign. You can find out more about both of these if you know your birth time here.

Learn more about the astrology of this moon here.

Listen to the Embodied Astrology guided meditation for this moon here

KINJIN via PinterestKINJIN via Pinterest

I have nothing to prove. I do not owe anyone anything. No one owes anything to me. I don’t own anyone. I am not owned by anyone. I take full responsibility for my own becoming. I see the foundation that was laid before I arrived, I feel where I sit… And I choose how to build and when to excavate. I am aware of what I stand for. I bless my family that has given me life and I bless all of my relations. I ask for forgiveness, acceptance, courage, release, and support. I honor the goodness that has…

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Survival: a drabble

I think I was always knew getting old would be more than I could survive. Perhaps I used up everything I had surviving my childhood. And then I had my son and I endured because someone needed me to endure.

But this current treacherous, meaningless survival has surpassed my tolerance .


December Nights On My Patio

it’s just me out here

in an ever expanding universe

and ghostly night enshrouded trees
and the beat of my heart
breath entering
and leaving my lungs
to remind me I’m alive

I spend too much time
thinking about you
I think this must be a bad thing
It’s a part of love, of our love

But sometimes
I think I love too hard,
too much

Christmas is a nightmare this year
A very torturous, long nightmare
My first one alone
in fourteen years
It means I have too many
unwanted thoughts,
too many memories
and a battalion of ghosts

Visits to grocery stores
filled with a kind of chant
that sounds like a dull roar
to my sensitive ears

But is really just fragments
And layers
of conversations
*”They’re out of dill, Mary…
*What was next*
*on the list?*
*Coconut milk?*

And plans
and surprises
and presents
and cards
yet to send

That used to me

I remember the exhaustion
and a head full of lists
I forgot what a gift it all was
that all the chatter
all the running around
all the creative problem solving
was a great source of light
as we approach the darkness
of the solstice,
a day so short
it takes my breath away.
Even now.

I panicked so hard
I had to flee

I am a little fae gypsy witch
with no need of her magic
for this year’s sacred holiday

Do I use my love for you
as an escape,
as a panacea
for a battered heart?
A remedy for the panic
caused by choices,
by decisions
I’m still not sure of?


Sometimes it’s just me
on my patio at night
with my beating heart
and my unquiet mind
and my ghostly
winter trees
in the cold
night wind
reminding me
that sometimes
I have to let go
and face being





It’s December now
My birthday soon
It doesn’t feel at all
like birthday time

What I can feel
Is cold, cold air
And warm sunshine
And a kind of lethargy
Of the body
Of the heart

I want to lie all day
In my soft bed
And watch sunbeams
As they dance
Along my hardwood floor

Or close my eyes
And feel the sun
On my face
And pretend
It is the warmth
I find in your eyes


Morning Sun in the French Quarter



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