Easter's on it's way

This last year has shut my mouth - such complex engagements and so much to do every day. It's been busy, tricksy - sadness has equalled happiness.

These seem like tough times, but I think that's perspective instead of reality. I haven't found my footing yet. I expect to.

I am grateful for these days, even though the poetry of the sky seems so distant. Happy to be here, even though it feels like a struggle to stick to my plans.

I'm sure I'll find my voice soon. For now, there's this:

The Moment


The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

Margaret Atwood