I Learnt to Read a Poem

A small poem for small times

I spent a year buried

under sandbags and the sediment of years

A constant weight

I stopped trying to shift them

In anger and impatience but

With boring walks

And days in bed

And soft lighting

And silent evenings of rest

I started to make things with my hands

And let words go to spare

I learnt to read a poem like a prayer

I hid from the sun that told me

To grow

To plant

I shook hands with my shadow

I asked her to dance

I rewrote my mother tongue and told her

As she rolled around inside me like a toddler

“We aren’t young but hurt, we cannot speak another verse in this dishonest dialect”

I’m still learning to rest

To accept.

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This year I’m on a quest to try and support myself more through my music and writing in the hopes that I can dedicate more time to both. In light of this, I have switched on a paid subscription to this weekly blog which you can sign up to below if you would like to, and are able to, support me on the slightly mad mission to being a full-time artist. Thank you for being here.