Here we are again- after Dad. 

I watch her fork shuffle food.

She is independent, fierce 

and frightened. 

She is alone 

and pain is her last friend. 

I watch her in hospital,

how many times 

does her story need to be told?

Trying to say the right thing,

trying to be dignified and strong.

How can I help? What can I do?

You don’t know her.

I don’t care about tests, treatments and diagnoses

I just want you to know her.


To sit, to hold, to be, 


I’m not ready for this. 


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A man who is trying to find a place in the world of today, and daring to hope there is work out there to energise and fulfil. I have a lot of life experiences and reflections to share, from a rather neurotic, self doubting perspective(!)

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