I don’t consider myself a poet but some things, emotions particularly, seem more accessible when I let the words flow freely and simply. I wrote this poem about guilt last year. Guilt is an emotion I strenuously fought against but I encountered it full-force when I stopped working. Happily, a year later I’m more at peace with where my life is so the ugly parasite guilt doesn’t get me down as often anymore.


Useless and yet

So pervasive

Sitting waiting hoping

Wanting to move

To do

To work

Rational mind knows

It is what it is

You are where you are



Sitting waiting hoping

Wanting to dance

To create

To educate

Body resists

Concrete in my bones

Static in my brain

Days doled out in

Cups of tea

Sitting waiting hoping

Wanting to accept

To be

To honour

And yet