My Wordly Wealth

Heather Williamson

Poetry on roots, love, life and faith

Category: Poetry

  • 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.

  • 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.

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