I am thinking of the light at dawn..

I am thinking of the light at dawn..

and how I opened my eyes that first morning after she took her last breath

knowing she was no longer here in bodily form

and that I would not see her again later that day as I had hoped.

I am thinking of the light at dawn

Shining through the curtains of the holiday flat on the beach in Cornwall.

I want to tell you how I heard the crash and roar of the waves breaking on the shore

and knew I had to go , to rise immediately and walk along to the beach, throwing a jacket on over  my pyjamas, and running to  feel the wind on my face, inhale the ocean,  get my feet in the water, let myself be totally  in and of  the elements.

I want to tell you how I hurried outside, bare feet on the sand, and as I turned the corner, the sun rose majestically behind a cloud , strong bright rays shining out, it felt to me  like the arms of an angel gazing down me – I stood gazing up, feeling as if I was in a cathedral – part of me thinking that you could not make this up and part of me knowing it felt just right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I went down to the water’s edge, felt the cold refreshing water wash over my feet, looked for a shell to anchor me to this moment, and found a beautiful stone. I  find daily comfort holding that stone in the palm of my hand.

 

A few minutes later, a rainbow appeared over the sea ; and I smiled and thought ‘ Mum, you haven’t gone at all,  you are right here , right now ‘ and I said ‘good morning – now you are at peace,and finding joy’. 

I then joined friends for breakfast and found huge comfort in feeling held, supported , and had the deep discussions about life and death and everything in between, ( including the joys of a thunder box ) and knew I would be able to laugh again. Thank you to those friends, and , see you again very soon.

I want to tell you how last week, I missed her so suddenly,  and cried hard ugly sobs, tears on my cheeks , wanting to pick up the phone and speak to her. I decided to sit down and write her a letter instead. As I sat at my desk, my attention was drawn to the window and , like a snow flake, a small white feather drifted slowly past the window.

I want to tell you

I am from the very top branch of the old beech tree,

where I climbed to hide when my granny died,

where I hid with a book, many times

and I thought Mum didn’t know where I was

She did – and probably wished she too could hide away and read sometimes.

I am from her laughter, her tears and her joy, her longings

As I write, I feel her knowing and soft brown eyes smiling

and I go forwards now with my own laughter, tears, joy and longings.

Still enjoying the light at dawn each morning – I caught those shining rays again earlier today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have recently had the experience of  Wild Writing , with Angie Wiseman of soulshine studios , where she reads a poem and we write a response to that poem – writing for 15 minutes without taking the pen off the page, and then read our words aloud to the group.  The words above are my response to the following poem , and the line ‘ I am thinking of the light at dawn’.  Words from the heart that I did not know needed to be written. It is a wonderful and powerful practice, and highly recommended.

https://m.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/post-factual-love-poem