healingwords: poetry for the soul

It is hard to believe 5 years have passed without my wonderful Dad, although as I write the word 'without', aware of him looking down at me from the mantelpiece, I know he is still with me and always will be. 

Dream time, back in bluebell woods, standing on a sea washed shore as dawn rises, holding hands in peace, love flowing, promising to witness the dream as we wake to a new day. 

  Never be afraid to say what you feel, how ever crazy it seems, whatever the fear of ridicule. Our story is our truth, our dream world reflects reality,  sharing brings healing and peace. 

A wonderful evening with all our family together at the beach. Once six, we are now twelve.  It felt very safe, everyone was carefully distanced, walkers apart, fisherman in the sea. Families enjoying the cooling evening, swimming, eating picnic cenas, children splashing in the waves. We are fortunate to live near to both mountains and sea, able to enjoy the refreshing beauty of nature. 

This statue of Saint Brigid stands in the middle of a circular garden to the side of the Holy Well at Liscannor in County Clare, Ireland. It is a beautiful place, at the foot of a peaceful graveyard, looking out towards the Atlantic Ocean. Both the garden and the shrine of the Holy Well are a place of pilgrimage for people looking for the intercession of Saint Brigid, with a collective memory of the pagan Goddess who shared her name.  We were there alone in the afternoon sunshine and felt the ripple of the generations of prayer and hope gathered in the humble offerings and natural beauty. 

Standing in the waves at the water's edge, lulled by the ebb and flow, the slow trickle as worries wash away into the salt sea. 

Today our family remember Jake who we lost 13 years ago. It is hard to believe so many years have passed and a testament to love and survival that we have learned to live without him. In his short life he touched all who knew him and he will live on with us forever. I posted this poem in his memory last year.  THE MAN IN THE MOON Sometimes I see  a youth in the street who reminds me of him, fresh face smiling, base ball capped, arms swinging with spirit, full of life, until I remember our lad is stranded in time, the years have not aged him, worries have not tired him, love and children have not graced him; I might not even recognise the man he would become. He lives forever in my mind, the laughing toddler, the skate boarding teen, the man in the moon, the loving boy  we lost too soon.

This beautiful holm oak is in the centre of a hidden grove of trees, protected by smaller oaks and brambles. Entering the grove feels like walking into the rarefied atmosphere of a great Cathedral, a sacred space of stillness.  I feel calmed and renewed leaning on the strong trunk, looking upwards through the canopy to the sky. 

Today I am reminded of the importance of simple things and how this world health crisis is making us rethink what we really need in life. I am grateful for the unconditional love of my family and friends who make my life worth living.

Yesterday I was able to go out for the first time in 8 weeks. It was a beautiful evening, cooling enough to enjoy a gentle walk around the village. We crossed paths with other walkers, all politely moving aside, maintaining a safe distance without comment. It was strange to see people and speak Spanish again and refreshing to be out in the open, enjoying familiar views and the countryside blooming. I am fortunate to live 5 minutes walk from nature, the virus still controls our movements here but we enjoy more freedom than those living in city flats with a high density population. I wonder with the new home office working proving possible if we will stiff a movement out of the cities to a quieter way of life and a regeneration of many depopulated rural areas. I think we are at the beginning of a time of change, where the accepted progress of our societies, with its benefits but also its problems,  is being reevaluated.

Today is a big day in Spain, children are allowed outside for the first time in 6 weeks, my grandson is on his bike and the baby feeling the sunshine for his first outing since birth. I am counting down the days, the Government plan is for people to be allowed out for exercise and walks from May 2nd if all goes well this week. The strict lockdown has worked and the out of control rise in virus cases is now reducing. However we will need caution in the days and weeks ahead, things will change and we are changing already in our expectations. Today is just for rejoicing that our children have the freedom to run again. 

It has now been over six weeks since I have left my house. I am missing walking on the hills, only 1 km from my home but still inaccessible. I look out at them everyday and wonder how the spring flowers are growing after weeks of rain and intermittent sun. This is a photograph of creeping honeysuckle growing in amongst the shrubs under the pine trees. I thought honeysuckle was a garden plant and remember it growing up the brick garage wall when I was a child, bashed by our bouncing balls. I was surprised to see it growing wild. 

I am flying away from life today, over the hills, over lakes and valleys, silvered by light. 

This is a strange birthday. I am not one for big celebrations but 60 is 60 and I had planned to be with loved friends and my wonderful family. Today we are together only on screens and I can not share hugs and cake. Still, I am grateful. Grateful for another day, for my health, for the love I feel from those who sustain me, for all those keeping me safe, for all those working daily to keep us all safe. I look forward to celebrating with you all when we can and until then thank you for your love. 

Today was the first time since last July that I felt unable to write and post my daily photo poem. It has not been an easy day but just as I was closing tired eyes for sleep, these words came to me. Tomorrow is another day. With thanks to all our healthcare workers. 

As I can not go out to take new photographs of the changing seasons, I am going back over a few years of photographs of the natural world around me in Spain and from last year's visit to Ireland, England and Wales. Today I have chosen to go to the sea, let the waves wash over me, their rhythm soothing, repetition slowly relaxing the tension, worries breaking on the sand.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

This strange topsy turvey tree stump seemed rooted into the ground in an olive grove near my home. It now seems a good illustration of the confusing times we are living through where everything we took for granted is in question. What is certain is the land will continue to green without us, the olives will grow and ripen in time for their Autumn collection. Hopefully by then I will be able to walk among them.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

Easter is a busy time in my village as houses fill with people coming back to their family homes. The church is full on Holy Thursday, Good Friday and at Midnight Mass and Sunday morning Resurrection Mass. The band accompanies the village on the Good Friday solemn procession and again at dawn on Sunday morning with the staging of the 'Encuentro'. I have been involved in the 'Encuentro since my eldest daughter first played in the band and more so since we moved to our home in the centre of the village. The band assembles before first light, youngsters bleary eyed from nights without sleep at their Easter camps. The streets are silent as a column of men process with the statue of a prone Jesus passing my house, whilst the village women walk behind the statue of Mary cloaked in mourning black. The two meet as the sun rises in the bakers street where a young 'Festera', her hair dressed with a black mantilla, removes the cloak to reveal Mary in her golden glory, in celeb...

There are days when I am overcome with an overwhelming wish to walk out my door, out of the village and into the trees. For now, I can only dream and be thankful the majority are keeping me and others safe by staying home.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

Last night's beautiful full moon brought me sweet pangs of sadness as I opened the front door to an empty street and saw the moon, hidden by cloud above the roof tops.  Month after month I have stood at the door with my grandson, pointing up at the full moon or wandered the village streets to catch sight of it around corners. He has always loved the moon, it was one of his first words as I held him him to see an August full moon rising over the hillside. He spent his early years spotting all kind of moon shapes, from crescent to full moons on pictures, packaging and clothes. To see the moon without him was a reminder of our love which only grows with the passing of each month.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.