My Wordly Wealth

Heather Williamson

Poetry on roots, love, life and faith

Category: Poetry

  • Fragile

    There’s an experience common to many with neurodiverse conditions that is baffling and sometimes upsetting. The feeling that other people are rejecting you, either what you have to offer or you yourself.Apparently this has a name: rejection sensitive dysphoria or RSD.Of course, there will be people who don’t like us in life, but RSD relates… Read.

  • You may be gone

    You may be goneBut I keep finding youIn places I don’t expectLike sand after a holidayOr glitter after ChristmasPerhaps I should have tidied you awayA little betterBut I don’t want to forgetSo I must liveWith these contradictory hopesSide by sideOneThat I would heal and soonThe otherThat I would never recover Read.

  • Stage angel

    We saw you that time, at the Sondheim,do you remember?The thunderous applauseas you enteredthen the hush as you began to speak -we gazedwondering what you really are.We wonderbut without manic hysteria -there is no screaming surge,no clamour that desiresit knows not what.Do we see something unearthly perhaps?A gift so astonishingwe are just grateful to have… Read.

  • Awkward

    I am socially awkward at times. It’s not something I really thought about until I had to attend a webinar about ADHD. It was being considered that one of our children had ADHD, but it turns out that I do too. I remember sitting there taking notes, not thinking of my children at all. Instead,… Read.

  • Resistance is a piece of poetry

    Writing is part of the dietI am feeling the pull of the cakeThere are crisps in the kitchen I’m trying to resistBut it’s hard, for goodness’ sakePoems are part of the health planWhen I get the urge to chewI’ll contemplate words and combine themAnd add in a rhyme or twoWhen I get to the final… Read.

  • Not ready

    I am not ready for daffodils yet.I see the shoots and a bud or two breaking throughbut it is only the first month of the year.When the daffodils break through ourexpectations change. It should be warmer now, we say. Spring is here early, we whisperto one another.But my hands are blue with cold and I… Read.

  • Passing through

    A robin met my glance today -I in my car, coat on with heating turned up full,he pausing beneath a treein his feathered majesty.He met my eyeand turned away knowing Iwas no threat.Knowing I am just passing through – that this ice kingdomis hisand not mine. Read.

  • The last mince pie of the season

    This last mince pie of the season is a thingof greatest beauty.The pastry short, the lid slightly too small.In between the points of the star-shaped pastryon top, mincemeat oozes out.This home-made pie is small; not the showy itemsold in supermarkets in boxes of six, with intricate patternson top and a foil base. These mismatched pies,… Read.

  • Something like hope

    There is something like hope in the hedgerowOn a frozen winter’s mornPearls of pink that wait to bloomIn the year that’s newly bornThe river is rushing wildlyMud and ice mingle under my feetIn the clouds white and dense a promise ofA heavy fall of sleetAnd nature continues its singingThe birds upon the airThe squirrel finding… Read.

  • Finding purpose

    It was about this time last year that I had that thought again, the one that says, “You should have done better. You must think about how you can improve.” It could be about any number of things, but this was about a familiar one: teaching. I qualified as a primary teacher in the 1990s,… Read.

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