One rule for me

His eyes were darkly darting,

as he surveyed from high.

The ivory tower that chained

the poor and the care workers

to queues at a local food bank.


He groaned as the media

attacked him. He moaned

behind the bricks at us

while smiling thinly, and

showing us whitened teeth,

which have been polished to bite.


He works to get behind the

doors of power and control

and moves the pawns around,

He justifies his injustice 

to preserve his right wing pride.


A prop of a government that

shows its mettle by lying,

floundering as the thousands

lay down their lives on a front 

line not far off from me, as if 

we were the losing side 



Eating to die?

I stared at the biscuit box,

the chocolate, crisps,

empty cases and a loaf? just

bread crumbs, and wept.

I cried for the pain that I

was trying to suppress,

the old hurts that oppressed.


and I knew that I was heavy and

hopeless, I would have to go

through this again, and

again, I wept over the waste.

I loathed the loo where I

would be last, holding

myself in contempt

and disgust.


I saw myself as beyond

bad, gravely guilty and

prayed for strength to

see food as others do,

those who do not fear a 

forkful, and me scared 

using it to hush the

screaming child   in me.


My brother died in a 

dreadful way and in grief

something changed. I

was hopeless and hurting. l

felt like he saw and grieved

for me. I was ashamed that 

he might know and feel pity.

But did he speak to God? 

His parting gift to me?


Courage came and I gave 

my child a  voice to be heard. 

It took time and talking,

it took crying and walking

away from the things that

cause my resolve to crumble. 

I crawled like a baby, and 

slowly, held a new rope.


I fell, but ruled out the

feelings of fractured failure,

the nagging voice that sternly

speak, you’re weak, you won’t 

win. I listened for the voice

that says, I love you as I

see you now. I’ll be beside

you, and together we will


look back and see how

his hold has lessened.

You have changed, and now 

tell others that there’s 

sometimes a way away from it?

And they might too cry out and 

send their 






It’s the Kids.

The child lay at peace

her eyes closed and her

long dark lashes

fanned her gaunt cheeks.

Each breath taken 

an effort and each heart

beat slowing as her life

seeps slowly from her

shrinking soul.


Another child lies

asleep on a soft

mattress and pillows

both at the mercy

of bullying braggarts

and the choices others

make. This babe will

live and grieve the 

other child’s chilled flesh.


Elsewhere a son

is born in filth and

fragility. His body

fought to survive

cruelty and the cross

He took the small ones,

and blessed them 

and said, these are 

God’s precious gifts


To you, and so

God grieves as we

take his beautiful

gifts and use

them, hurt them and

hurl them into an

abyss of pain,


and humiliation.

I am no Victim

I was a Victim

I am no victim,

not any more.

He ruined my life

took my innocence,

I was deceived and

it tried to destroy

the life in me.

Others saw my weakness,

But, I will not let 

them be something that

rules me,

it erases my expectations

it ruins my outlook

or confidence

I am no victim

because it is no 

longer they 

who choose

but me, myself





my soul.

Duty can be Hell

Wearing whatever could be made in time,

he strolled the corridors of need,

knowing that his work would wrest

a grieving groan from his gambolling gut.


He smiled through his mask, at a

mountain of plastic moving slowly

on tired feet and eyes that showed the

shadows of pain and further tragic loss.


Donning his mound of clean clothes

and a mask fitted to his contours,

he wrestled with his soul and prayed

for today to be better that any yesterday.


Entering the intensive care ward area

he looked for faces he knew, people

he ventilated, he’d held their hands

willing them back to breathing, health and life.


Some waved a hand and some were

gone, and others were in their beds,

while a nurse whispered the numbers

and told him of her friend who was dead.


Tasting the bitter gall of perseverance,

he worked through with courage and care,

stopping to encourage and weep, for

the ones who were no longer lying there.


At last, he was relieved as another took

his place, and peeling off the layers he

remembered the face of the woman

who was recovering, and would see her


family again -he smiled recalling her smile

giving him the strength to 

go on.