Writings from a liminal space
We are mud and starfire, sewn into clay feet by gossamer threads, bearing the precious weight of our world in the space between each quivering atom. We are abyss and bright bridge, wingèd and rusty feathered, breathtaken, wide-eyed. We are flight falling. Grace plummeting carefree, caught between heartbeats, held up to the light. We have... Continue Reading →
She was born of no man's rib bone but of hip bone of downland hill, curved recumbent beneath a scudding sky
She harboured a dream. Steered it in from the wild winds that whipped up the edges of her soul, threw a line to the seething sea and caught it, this insistent whispering that billowed her sails. She caught it and steered it toward land, to the place where forests fall to shore, and there she... Continue Reading →
I've been hiding. Habitually hiding, for so long that I didn't realise I'd become invisible. Shrinking myself, shifting my shape so I could slot in here, slip by there. Smooth as an adder sliding through long grass. Unseen.
We are mud and starfire, sewn into clay feet by gossamer threads, bearing the precious weight of our world in the space between each quivering atom. We are abyss and bright bridge, wingèd and rusty feathered, breathtaken, wide-eyed. We are flight falling. Grace plummeting carefree, caught between heartbeats, held up to the light. We have... Continue Reading →
My bones long for rock, as my blood responds to the whispering sea or the pulsating flow of the river. Deep in my marrow curve my ancestral stories, seeking echo in the ancient rocks that shape my sweet land of hill and mountain. Those ancient bone stories are a sonar homing call which booms way... Continue Reading →
It is not only the double helix spiral of our genes that informs our particular shape, the creation that is you and me. That bright spiral has a dark twin, dwelling in the spaces and the shadows within the serpentine twist. This is the space into which creation flows like a mighty river, stellar tides... Continue Reading →
Today a tumult of autumnal leaves tumbled, hundreds of them lying golden as bright spilt coins on the dark rain-soaked lane as I walk along. Each year, this leaf-tumble day arrives, a day when nature seems to me to decisively shift her mood from summer to autumn, and I wonder at the timing of it.... Continue Reading →
Don’t touch me. Don’t pat me down. Nor soothe me, nor lay any part of your sympathetic arms around me Because I will growl, and more. I will snarl. This sob-wrenching grief for lands and waters poisoned Hearts broken and losses shattering Will not be contained Cannot be borne in proximity with another. ... Continue Reading →
She is shaking.
In Lancashire,
where they frack.
Draw your own conclusions
From that.
To hear what isn't there, you have to cosy up to what is there. You have to have some kind of familiarity. Like an time-tested friendship, you nestle into its form so that you can be held by it
Mark Rosher of Gloucestershire, England
Writings from a liminal space
Folk Singer and Songwriter of the Earthy and the Magical; Traditional Original Music.....
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Writings from a liminal space
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