Poem by Helen Simpson
So suddenly the sky is dark,
Patterned with brightly sprinkled stars.
A heavy jar of liquorice called tea
To sweeten and soften tummies.
Waking in the quietness of early morning, held
In a new friend’s soft, kind, wise hug.
So many words, toppling, stretching, smiling
Into sharp focus: “ radical self love”.
Waking as monks, silent, early to
Deep space in the circle of meditation.
Big spades dug into steamy compost
wheeling a new path and long, straight beds.
Small tubs of sauce, the creamy consistency
Of delicious hazel nut anointing sparkling vegetables.
Deep shadows fell over the dark water until,
Swimming through the cold, we reached sunlight.
Rice summer rolls lay waiting, dazzling by
The vibrant reds and yellows of edible flowers.
The Silent Warrior only signed up at the eleventh hour
To lead us, lightly, into the chambers of power.
Laughter gurgled from Rabia’s being as,
Hands deep in pockets, nettles came alive at her touch.
In the forest a drill made holes for
Injected spawn to sprout mushroom miracles.
Water freshened with citrus, flavoured
With surprises, poured easily from the tap.
Two courgette cakes, poppy seeded
Melting in the mouth, a secret recipe.
A close night, flickers of light leading into the wood
Where we stayed still, silently breathing together, enchanted.
An instant of wild, the white rear darted from the trees
Exclamations. A deer glimpsed for one joyous second.