That recipe I make

Slow-cooked lamb roast

Infused with lemon and garlic

Splashed lavishly with olive oil,

I kept that when I broke up

With the dark-haired man

With deep-brown eyes

His love of Korean cinema lingered

Long after he was gone

And I'll never eat Romano

And not think of him

Sometimes fondly

Sometimes with a deep pain

He left many imprints on my life

From my French sailor

Who forever made me see

The romance in a sunset

Sometimes I hum that song

The one he used to sing to me

When everything was closing in

And I found it hard to breathe

Every bike ride or playground

Reminds me of that summer

Where we frolicked

Hands intertwined

In the heady, fragrant breeze

Eyes only for each other

He's in every sunset now

I can't eat donuts

Without remembering

Those ones I ate in Berlin

In the freezing winter wind

With my German lover

His coat wrapped around me

As he kissed the sugar from my face

And when I walk in cemeteries

I think of when we strolled

Hand-in-hand through that place

Sombre and yet beautiful

The autumn leaves swirling

On the hibernating ground

I see him still betwixt the headstones

They shaped me with their taste

Their passion, their dislikes

And though these men are gone

Their impression here remains

And oft I ponder to myself

What habits linger still

That they have kept from me

Life had been bumbling along for a while. The pandemic had settled like a heavy blanket on our already insular lives, snatching any rare moments of spontaneity, dampening the wick of creativity, freezing off the tender shoots of joy. Life had become a relentless routine - work, grocery shops, food, TV and video games. There were no alternatives to the choices - we were mandated by the government to stay inside - on pain of a large fine.

I'm not sure when the numbness started to creep in, but I think it predated even the pandemic. I started crying in the shower. And when I took long walks on my own. I teared up in the moments in between, when I didn't think anyone was looking. I shied away from the screaming pain and buried it beneath more cheerful thoughts. Perhaps that's when the numbness started.

Two years into the pandemic I was a woman sleep-walking through her life. One mask for the outside world to prevent the spread of the virus, another for at home, to prevent another argument that I didn't have the energy to fight. I pretended everything was OK, I did it so much, that sometimes I even believed it.

But I was lonely. Lonely at home with my partner, lonely in the room full of people at work, lonely on the bus and in the shower. I felt like a startled turtle, who had retreated into it's shell after a shock. As hid the pain away, my ability to feel joy winked out. My smile disappeared, not just behind my mask, but from my eyes too. I walked the heavy tread of the condemned.

The first slap came from work. The place I was the happiest, if I was happy at all. That was where I had meaning, where I had the ability to impact the world in some positive way. I poured myself into that job as if I were a bottomless jug of water, slaking the thirst of a group of camel riders who had crossed the desert and become lost.

Only to discover I was worth less to my company than a younger male colleague who did exactly the same job as me. My sanctuary, my safe place, held the first dagger. They twisted the knife when they refused to give me equal pay, driving home just how unvalued I was. Oh how it stung. But if they had treated me just a little better I might have stayed.

The second slap was the implosion of my relationship. I thought I'd found my person, that I was done with the indignity of dating. But something had broken long before and as the years drifted by, I felt more and more at sea. I tried everything to make it work. I had been taught as a child never to give up on a difficult man. I had bent and bent until I broke and still it wasn't enough. Everything was my fault and my responsibility. I was asking for too much. If he been a little kinder, I'd probably still be with him.

The final straw that shattered the illusion completely, came from my landlords. Greedy as they were, they raised the rent by 31% in one hit - far beyond what I could afford. If they had been a little fairer - I'd still be living there.

I thank them for their callousness and cruelty - for I thought so little of myself back then, that I needed that level of contempt, to finally realise I wanted more for myself than the scraps. My life fell apart in a spectacular way - but that was the first steps to it falling into place.

She gave him her smile. And her youth. And her joy. He feasted on it all, then demanded more. But she was spent. Used up. Exhausted. Still he supped on her life-force, until, with her dying breath, she cast him out. Weakly she stumbled away, her faint heart-beat barely a flutter. But outside his shadow was warmth. And smiles. And youth. And joy. The frost around her heart was hard and cold. But slowly it melted away. Each kind word. Each soft gaze. Each peel of laughter. Until she grew a new smile. Different, sometimes sad, but just as beautiful.

The soldier's breath was heavy

As the lids above his eyes

He sprawled beside the levee

With his mangled, bloody thighs

The bullets and the shouting

Were fading to the west

And silence was approaching

In the air and in his breast

The field was draped with remnants

The limbs and bones of boys

Those that breathed begged penance

Or screamed an awful noise

The air was thick with torment

The breeze, it stank of death

So many lay there dormant

They'd breathed their final breath

Our soldier groaned again

All shrapnel pocked and still

As blood ebbed from his vein

And on the earth did spill

As he prepared to die

On that lonely, foreign field

He contemplated why?

What result would his death yield?

Then suddenly a face

Appeared before his own

'We'll take you back to base'

it said. But he could only moan

The blessed blackness claimed him

As they moved him to the cot

That day he lost a limb

Which on that field would rot

His artery was oozing

A torn and bloody mess

There wasn't too much choosing

The surgeon did his best

The options were all dire

And time was growing thin

To seal the wound with fire

To cauterise the shin

The blade betwixt the flame

Til metal glowed white-hot

The surgeon took his aim

Then cleansed the crucial spot

The soldier whimpered weakly

As the fire seared his knee

The nurses watched on bleakly

Too much death they'd had to see

Perhaps that youth would die

Or maybe he would mend

But that shadow in his eye

Would be there 'til the end

Milky fingernail

It peeps over the horizon

Then rises boldly

Into the darkening sky

Driving the sun

Off the western edge

And replacing the golden rays

With opalescent gleam

Her cool light shines

Moonbeams dance on water

And cast deep shadows

As creatures scuffle under bushes

Searching for their prey

Oft shrouded in dark clouds

Her glow then muted

Yellowed, greyed

Made yet more milky

'Til she emerges again

She brings the tides

Which surge upon the shores

Makes dogs howl

And nervous birds flutter

Even lonely people

Mutter to themselves

Their eyes smudged

By restless nights

Bathed in pearly light

Her power is more subtle

Her hand more deft

And yet she is formidable

She will not burn you

Nor cause your eyes to squint

But she will send you disquieting dreams

And buzzing insects

And yowling cats

And gooseflesh on your skin

When the round moon sashays across the sky

Then gentle creatures must hide

For predators stalk in every shadow

Hungry for their supper

Teeth sharpened for the kill

Mouths salivating

Eyes alert and ears pricked

Waiting and coiled

To pounce on their prey

Be it leathery bats

Or silent, taloned owls

Spiders with sticky webs

A snake on a summer's night

A patient black cat

A man with ill-intent

A cunning, smiling fox

All have come to kill

To net their trophy

She dances across the sky

A round, glowing orb

Beautiful and dangerous

Aloof of all the destruction

That trails in her wake

The moon

I want to learn to cackle

To laugh in that uninhibited way

That only a woman who has

Blithely discarded the chains

Of expectation can

I want to cackle at the body shamers

At those who think I have no place

In this magnificent world

Because I haven't birthed a human.

I want to cackle in their face

I want to cackle at capitalism

And unrealistic beauty standards

And the needless violence of men

I want to cackle like a witch

Like a woman liberated

I want to cackle at the leering eyes

And at the eyes filled with pity

And at the arch, judgemental eyes

I want to cackle at my own eyes

When they only seek to see my flaws

For what is a witch

But a woman come into her power

Freed from the crushing expectations

Of a society obsessed with controlling

All that is feminine

Oh yes I long to cackle

To dance around a fire

To mix hearty soups in a cauldron

To gather herbs in the forest

To whisper to trees and flowers

What bliss there could be

Living a life like that

Of peace and calm reflection

Of picking up the shattered pieces

And creating a beautiful mosaic

Of finding the person I could be

Underneath the hopes and wishes

The sadness and the trying to fit in

The bending and then breaking.

But first, I must learn to cackle.

I thought it had gone away,

Had flown like a bird

Migrating to warmer climes

One day here, the next day departed

Leaving just a faint impression

That swiftly faded away

That it had ever been here at all.

My step was light, my heart warm

The sun glinted off leaves

And even rain brought only

Bands of colour to the sky

Suddenly time stretched

An expanse of exciting opportunity

The world felt like a mum hug

I baked, I wrote, I sewed

I read grand works of historical fiction

I napped and sipped tea

Poetry flowed forth

And I sketched dogs and cats

Walked in fields of flowers

And felt a glowing peace

But it returned uninvited

Unexpected, untimely, unwished

The shock felt yet more keenly

From it's too-short absence

A marauder with no code

With no-one else to torment

Tailor-made for me

I awoke heavy with dull eyes

And slow thoughts

I moved through treacle

The sun's rays held no warmth

It would not reach me

Below my thickly wrapped

Cloak of shame

Sophie woke suddenly. The mournful howling of wolves echoed around the valley, but something else caused her skin to prickle. She held her breath and listened....A quiet sound, that ceased a heartbeat after the howling faded. Like someone was working loose the latch on the door. Silent as an owl, Sophie moved to the window and peered out. Three silhouettes darkened her door. She counted two jerry cans and the barrel of a gun. Tools to burn a witch. The whispers she'd spread in town had finally borne fruit. Souls, delivered to her door. Starter, main and dessert. Bon appetite.

Soft white flakes drift

On the hot current of air

And settle amongst

The dry grass stalks

Baked brown and crisp

By the unrelenting sun

On the ridge, blue smoke

Curls and coils like serpents

And, with the aid of binoculars

It's possible to see the orange glow

Of the fire, licking, devouring

Everything in it's path

Leaving only charred remains

It crackles and pops

As it tastes this trunk

And spits out that rock

As it journeys up the slope

Accelerating like a race car

With a hungry V8 engine

The wind picks up

Whipping itself into a frenzy

Carrying the flames higher

And higher again

Lifting the smoke

And tossing it though the hot air

Soon the valley is shrouded

With grey, greasy haze

The heat shimmers on the ground

The soft flakes dance on the breeze

Then settle on the dusty ground

Feather light, til everything is white

The fire makes it's slow descent

From the flatness of the ridge

Into the once verdant valley

Leaving a trail of wanton destruction

In it's smouldering wake

Corpses, stumps, ash

The air is thick now

With heat and smoke.

It's getting hard to breathe now

The acrid air sears eyes and throat

It's mistress, the fire lurks

Perhaps near, perhaps far away

A sudden gust of wind

Carries bad omens

Singed gum leaves,

Edges still aglow

With the greedy embers

Of the ravenous fire

The hose feels small

The water tepid, weak

In the face of this monster

The only blessing is the drought

It's turned the country to dust

And dust is no food for fire

Still, the burning leaves alight

And soon a grass stalk flickers

With the dancing orange flame

A moment of joyous life

Before the harsh wind

Blows it roughly out