healingwords: poetry for the soul

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. 

These brilliant green leaves illuminated with the low afternoon sun brightened the dried fennel stalks lining the terraces. This photograph was taken a day before the Spanish lock down. I wonder after nearly four weeks how the hills and fields are greening, as Spring rains and warmth will be firing growth and painting the landscape.  © 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.  

I have never been able to photograph a swallow in flight, despite trying for hours as they swoop over my roof terrace or through the narrow village streets. My brother Chris Knight took this image when he stayed in the village and the birds kept him awake from dawn each morning, flocking in the plaza from their mud spit nests under house eaves. This morning they were back again, high in the sky, chasing insects, greeting the day.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

The moon woke me this morning as it shone in my bedroom window. Looking over the roof terrace towards the mountains I watched it track over the mountain, before slipping over the horizon as dawn broke spreading light from the rising sun. My eye was caught by a sudden dart of black across the terrace. Another one became clearer, at first I thought it was a bat but the movement was swifter. As night turned into day I watched the familiar flocks of wood pigeons as they flew from the hills to the village. Then I saw them, swooping over the roof tops, darting in front of my window, flashing up into the sky. The swallows had returned. There must always be a day when the migrating birds arrive from their winter in Africa but this year I was awake and able to spot their first morning. In these difficult times when looking ahead seems impossible the return of the swallows brings me much needed hope.    © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

This winter I planted a number of acorns I picked up in the woods where they littered the ground around the holm oak trees. I followed instructions and put them in a moist bag in the fridge for a few weeks, then with my grandsons help, planted them in the long pot where my mint grows. Months past and we were delighted to see tiny oak plants spouting, with the familiar spiked holly leaves of the holm oak. Some weeks later I decided to transplant them to their own pots and was amazed to find that the inch high oak had a root at least 10 times as long, wrapping around the planter. I worried that moving such a long root would damage the plant but so far they are still alive and hopefully getting used to their new pots.  In the wild where the earth is often baked hard and dry, it takes rain and the passing of an animal to squelch an acorn into the soil. Baby oaks grow very slowly, shadowed out by the faster growing, invasive pine. I hope one day to take my little oak plants and find a g...

The sun is out today and I am sitting on my small patio with a cup of tea. Looking skywards past the tall walls a passing cloud is framed by the fiesta flags still hanging since my son held a party on the patio at the end of last summer. It is a reminder of those carefree days and a hope of fiesta time to come. 

Second day of isolation at home and I am looking out over my roof terrace to the mountains. It is a chill, grey day, clouds hanging over the hills. I have the windows open to let fresh air flow through the house. The air is full of birdsong, I can hear a chain saw but no cars. My son is practising his saxophone, I can not remember the last time he picked up his instrument but he has already thought of things to fill his time. It feels strange, like our little corner of the world is suspended from normal life. We are thinking of what we eat, making sure we do not waste any food, planning ahead.  I like many have complained about the negative impact of social media but in this situation it is an amazing tool. As long as I do not obsess on the news but use it for connecting with my children and grandchildren, sharing a virtual cup of tea, keeping up with my friends, sharing poetry and uplifting posts of flowers and trees. I am enjoying you tube videos of story telling and seeing...

The morning sun waking the village to a new day. A reminder to look on the world anew each day with hope and gratitude.  © 2020 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

When I first moved to Spain I was struck by not just the sunshine but the light. Even on a grey day like today, when the valley is lashed with rain and clouds hang low, I know the light will soon return. I still remember long months of cloud in England so appreciate the brightening of weather and mood. As I struggle with fear and uncertainty over my future when EU citizenship is removed from all UK citizens, along with our rights, I retain hope that, like the sun, light will continue to burn. I remember the majority of kind and good people who will keep working to improve our world and the future we leave to our children.  © 2019 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

The sun is shining today but I feel like the clouds are gathering. What better than this lovely photograph by my brother Chris Knight to take me back to our family garden, where any ills would be eased by a little pocket of urban nature.  © 2019 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

During a difficult time of recovery and uncertainty, a walk in the trees on 'El Carrascal' helped me to see my path ahead.  THE PATH REVEALED Confusion clouds my thinking like the mist rolling in over the ridged ‘Carrascal’, damp seeping through towering pines, lacing spiked holly oak like cobwebs traced in drops of early morning dew. Crunch layered carpet of dried needles, dotted with gnawed innards of fallen cones, winter feast of leaping squirrels, I weave through trees, elder trunks cragged with reptile scales, circled by whippy stands of pale saplings. I break free of brambled wood as a fresh wind funnels down the valley, whipping white haze, wisps curling, clouds scurrying towards the sea, revealing hidden sun whose shining glow drips golden through the parasol of waxed green. Ahead lies my path, bordered by sweet thyme, a symphony of birdsong and whispering leaves, carob arm points the way as I walk bathed in light,...

This Christmas I have been aware of how many of us face the festive season with the loss of loved ones in our minds, made more poignant by the memory of times shared. For recent loss these can be difficult days however just as the Solstice passes and the days grow lighter I believe there is hope. The sharp depth of grief is part of the process and with time comes healing. Although they are forever missed, memories can be shared with laughter and their presence among us felt again. This photograph was taken on Christmas Eve in the countryside near my Spanish home. The sunlight illuminating the unseasonally deep carpet of clover and daisy.  I have added a beautiful photograph of the light taken by my wonderful son in law Jose. RETURN OF THE SUN Creeping towards Solstice, darkening days following the glory of leaf fall, hard ground and chill air circling earth rhythms as souls crave hibernation, to burrow down in soft quilts in lulling, soothing sleep...

Two years now since we left Dad's quiet funeral and walked in the frosty woods, catching falling leaves which blew around us like shining stars. Today whilst driving towards the village,  loss and death on my mind, this angel cloud appeared. Just a cloud but it made me smile and lifted the melancholy. This short poem reflects looking forward with hope.  IN THE CLOUDS Wisps of angel white drift in  sky  the colour of her Irish eyes, rising between peaks dripping gold with the last flare of setting sun slipping over the Sierra, hilltop homes embraced by feathered wings floating slowly into strong hands, holding me, lifted skywards, forever safe.  © 2018 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

An additional consequence to the loss of my parents has been the end of my regular visits to England. I am torn between missing my cool, green North country and the warmth of my friends and the inevitable sadness of returning with no family home and parents to welcome me. As so often my mind returns to the garden, where nature and love combined to make a treasured space. In this poem I can now look back with pleasure and less sadness.  I hope next Spring I will return, the garden is gone but the woods and the bluebells await. MISSING BLUEBELLS I have missed the bluebells, the spring renewal of sky painting, brushing the warming earth, shaking sleep from Oak woods. Unable to return, still afraid to face the step into a country where roots are now cut, where another walks the garden. Sweeping fallen oak leaves, bare branches greening, wood pigeons cooing from twigged woven nests. Surprised by waking flowers, nooks of shy snowdrops, spiked ...

Whilst coming to terms with my own stormy personality I find solace in the changing moods and seasons of nature. I empathise with the sadness of a cloudy, grey day and feel brightened by the bright, blue light of a Spanish sky. Wind moves me, both agitating and invigorating.  Rain refreshes, nurtures the baked ground and washes away my tears as it cleanses the dusty air.  Whilst we wait for the storms of winter to pass I retain the hope of longer days, flowering blooms, the coming of the light and lightening of mood. All things must pass, as in Seasons, life.  AFTER THE STORM The brooding sky darkens as  hostile clouds shroud the hills, snuffing out summer sun's last dance.  Wrathful winds howl their ire, in mournful seduction as field mice sneak through forgotten cracks seeking shelter in warm kitchens, a quiet refuge to while out the rage. As cleansing rains nurture the parched earth for winter's sleep we weather the storm,  ...