Author Archives: bydda88

About bydda88

I love poetry, writing, especially writing as healing, as touching the sacred, being touched. And place, places dreaming us, us them. Coasts, rivers, canyons; the ordinary things too, the small things, gestures that reach out.

Memories on the edge of Tongue

      It’s been a year since I’ve written here. So much has happened and yet also so little, that paradox of daily life, the struggle with constant fatigue, those dips over the edge into depression, nameless anxieties crowding … Continue reading

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Pooled

Some days the black tide seeps in (depression). Often for reasons I can’t tell or discover. It’s just suddenly there, black, often shiny, with no end of it, no beginning, no land to step back onto, no beach, no edge. … Continue reading

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Tidal Days

Tidal days, sea-foam days that curl and shapeshift, carry the heart on the wind, out and back, out and back. Horseshoe Bay, Port Elliot. Days when I see energy lines, stones that bounce and tell of tides and schools of … Continue reading

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Landscapes of the Heart

I’ve come across love letters, old ones, written me many many years ago. Those times when you’d have to wait days and even weeks for a letter to arrive. I’d be poised, held in and up by moments that stretched … Continue reading

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Dancing Reflections

The dance between, in and out of balance; wherever we go, we are, runs the Buddhist saying. Here the Valley of the Gods, just out of Medicine Bow in Utah, the car that got us there, the warm sunny day, … Continue reading

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Feathered Days

I like to watch the sparrows in the garden. How they dart about, chatter amongst themselves, all fly off in the one, sudden moment, return later, one or two, then more, come back to pick for food, drink from the … Continue reading

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Cloud Speak

Clouds, that shifting choreography in the sky, wispy, runic, rippling, changing, Clouds as portents, omens, hints, signs of direction, currents, particular landscapes. Clouds rich with story. Those rolling thuderclouds in the American South West; the busy chatter of clouds in … Continue reading

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