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 the mind. And yet beauty too, sometimes in glimpses, others, more often, longer in duration, euphoric. The ordinary lies in the extraordinary, the extraordinary in the ordinary, a dance of the two, at once a choreography, chaotic and beautiful, ugly too. The weave, weaving us.

I’ve been extraordinarily grateful to attend Kim Rosen’s workshop in Mulrany last year and this year her Poetry Depths Mystery School, also in Ireland. The camaraderie there, exploration of poetry as something heart-felt and soulful, has been deeply transformative. And, fun.

See Kim Rosen,

I wrote this last year after spending some time in Connemara.



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.
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