1 minute read

October Changes & Transformation

Writing Prompts: The Journey

The Shaft

Advertisement

Autumn

Mary Oliver

Helen Dunmore

Samuel Menashe

The Inanna Myth version by Jean Shinoda Bolen

The journey (Jill)

The worst news I have ever had, A lifelong membership for a special club, Life like an egg timer, slipping away, How do I travel this journey?

Alone? In fear? With strength?

I feel alone but I have companions - like minded travelers, They are on this difficult journey too, We cling onto life, celebrate each little victory, commiserate each defeat, And I am not alone, We hope together.

The goldfinch sang an old story this spring. The story was to pull dandelion out, to get rid of my brightness, stop my metamorphosis into the lightness of seeds, a floating soul. Yet, softly I land and infiltrate Earth. Grounded in mineral but dizzy from flight.

A new story is sung, about me, about all the dandelionesses that will flower, accepting the unacceptable whilst the goldfinch sings.

What is it like being a bouquet of dried flowers?

(Seren)

I am tied with a loose string, I can move and my petals scatter but your love bounds me tight.

I am a bouquet of lilac and cream, a frock which I wear effortlessly, robust, still in time.

Dried out fertility is preserved immortal, I am a childhood summer in the dead of winter

This article is from: