My Wordly Wealth

Heather Williamson

Poetry on roots, love, life and faith

Category: Poetry

  • Handstand

    If I could do a handstandright nowI wouldn’t.Being upside down these daysmakes the room spin funny.When I was young I’d have liked to be ableto do a handstand,but arms and legs didn’t seem tocoordinate well enough—all too independent mindedto work together.A headstand was easier to managebut what looks cute at nine or ten,looks ungainly at… Read.

  • Too

    I am too.Too sensitive.I feel your displeasureI don’t know what to doSo I just feel it.All day. All night.I wish I could change it.I am too eager.You asked a questionWanted a volunteer.Pick me!I think.I have an idea.I am too slow.Tardy.Late.I was feeling those feelingsAnd trying to decideIf I said too much.Again.Then I realised the time.Too.I… Read.

  • Winging it

    Here I amjust winging it.Not flyingnot floating on a thermal,taking moment by momentno long viewbecause the energy comesin short bursts only.Wait until the last minutebecause the impetusmakes me do it that way.Run for the bus–Run!I cannot get there early. Here I am overthinking it,thinking about the winging it.I should plan aheadget my act togetherget my… Read.

  • Wife jeans

    Why do they sellGirlfriend jeansAnd mom jeansBut not wife jeans?One pair for the youngSlimAnd carefreeAnother pretending to be For the older andSlightly more curvyBut always modelled By the same teenagerWho wears eachLike she hasn’t a careIn the worldWhat about the jeansFor the maritally content?The not-going-anywhereMake-his-dinnerRemember-the-appointmentsDo-the-school-runAnd-let-the-cat-out-again jeans?The eventually-realise-thereAre-holes-worn-in jeansThat you had for the last ten yearsAnd… Read.

  • What if?

    I tried to imagine the Easter story in the Bible as if Jesus hadn’t completed what he came to do. What if he hadn’t died? How would that change everything? The very first Easter, in my dream,The Lord God didn’t dieHe lived on earth so perfectlyAnd then, I don’t know why,When he could have saved… Read.

  • Season

    Where once the bare branchNow the new leafWhere once the berryNow the budAll is freshFull of surprise and delightAnd all is expectedLonged for And known –Like a lover’s faceOr a mother’s hands Read.

  • For P -with love

    Sometimes we get a chance to say goodbye and thank you. I did, in a letter. She wasn’t a relative but I had always known her. Happy first Mother’s Day in heaven. She talked so muchI could not get a word inBut she lived aloneSo she needed to shareShe talked about folksAs if I had… Read.

  • Drowning in notebooks

    I am certain that one dayI shall be found to have drownedin a sea of notebooks and planners.Like quicksand, they will draw me underand stifle my breath.Each book not half finishedeach marking new chapters,keeping safe informationsome weighty, all needful -datesand remindersand meetingsand webinarsreviewsand appointmentscoffee morningsand phone calls.All this to manage a child’s different journey.I would… Read.

  • Not an elegy

    The other day my dad said he wanted to give me a gift now and not wait for me to receive it when he or my mum are no longer here. How lovely.And I thought how often we do this with words. We save some of our finest speeches to be spoken in remembrance of… Read.

  • Once more

    Once more we are safely through the nightOnce more safely throughAnd the birds do sing in the sky againLike we expect them toAnd once more part the clouds againPermitting the sun to shineAllowing the ground to breathe againThe darkness to resignOnce more the buds do form againThe shoots break from the earthOnce more we feel… Read.

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