Writings from a liminal space
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
Autumn Equinox. A time in between. A moment of stillness amid inexorable change, the slow turning of the seasonal wheel towards autumn. A day of balance where darkness and light are in equal measure. An invitation to slip-slide into the eternity enfolded within each moment.
I've been wrestling with something since I published this blog site last week. A familiar struggle, and one I know I share with some of you. The struggle is this: I look at the world around me and I see breathtaking beauty, moments of bliss that come through watching the rain fall or my child... Continue Reading →
Yes #metoo. But... I don't want to add to more polarisation. I want masculine and feminine, free of exploitation.
It is time, friends, to take to the road To sing again to old bones, To seek out the old places, And find each other once more.
This, she understood now, was a still point. In the days before, she had chafed against the bars of an unseen cage, pushing forward, eager to know the next unfolding, and now it dawned on her that far from being stuck, she was being freed. Being freed.
Simply put, when I’m grounded, taking life at a reasonable pace, I make considered purchases. I build in time to go to the local shop to buy refills rather than grabbing a new laundry liquid bottle from the supermarket.
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.
Mark Rosher of Gloucestershire, England
Folk Singer and Songwriter of the Earthy and the Magical; Traditional Original Music.....
and beyond
Palestine, Poetry, Truth-Seeking,
Writings from a liminal space
explorations in creativity
Writings from a liminal space
Pagan reflections from a Druid author - life, community, inspiration, health, hope, and radical change
A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.
Longreads : The best longform stories on the web
The Art and Craft of Blogging
The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.
Woman on the Edge 
Recent Comments