It`s six o`clock in the morning
and I`ve risen from my tousled bed
sleepless and filled with contradictions
caught in the tangled undergrowth
of past and future.
At last I`ve got up
to sit with you
who`ve waited so gently for me,
your quiet strength
softly waiting for my homecoming.
And now, sitting still
at the kitchen table,
the only movement
my pen on the blank page,
a fly flits and buzzes
around the room
just as my ebbing thoughts
gently move around my opening heart
until they shift and settle.
The bursting fire of my anger
and will to succeed in the world
is beginning to burn out
as my heart sees its home,
but still the flames are so strong
burning sharp and bright
into the lives around me.
Yet now somehow
my heart will not shut up -
the sensitive little girl who`s scared
the angry rock of a woman
the loving, busy mum
the teacher
the dancer
the seeker of the way-
they all are crying out for this:
they know where other roads lead,
there is a choice but no choice...
the tangled stems unwind
to show the lotus at their centre.
The ashes of my bright burning
shift and settle and glow
as my heart opens its wooden doors
and you welcome me home.
There`s really nowhere else to go.

Rosie Pemberton
Huddersfield Group

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