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It is almost one month since I last wrote. With distance things have become clearer. Every surface feels alive under my bare feet; rough cotton, wet grass, flat rocks with crystals embedded. Mornings are chaotic with birdsong lighting up the sky. Everything is green and lush, bluebells run crazy through the woods. At new moon I sat by a fire and played the flute. I felt a part of me coming back to root in the soil. Still when I dream about you it is without resolution, sometimes you are not dead at all and we are visiting strange places. Last night we were in a desert, there was a blue lake, an oasis, in the distance. There were horses and I wanted to take one of them and ride to the lake but I was afraid. I wanted to swim in the lake but I knew if I rode off into the desert I might never find my way back.
Please note submissions for our Poem of the Week segment is currently closed — a new call for submissions will be issued in April. We are currently accepting submissions to our regular features: MONOGRAPH (a group of poems by a single author) and New Voices (poets aged 18-30 who have yet to publish a full collection).
Please read the full requirements on our Submissions page, before sending your work.
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