Walking the line

the line is thin

between power and weakness

sanity and madness

joy and sadness,


the line blurs

between faith and fear

right and wrong

gentle and strong,


the line extends

from compassion to unity

love to serenity

and tenderness to strength,


the line divides

good from bad

dark from light

hooded from sight.

you write the line



Moss and crimson roses

just because

i love you

i will feed you

red ripe cherries

juicy with joy.

i will bring you

crimson roses

heavy fragrance

sensual hearts

and give you

purply pressed grapes

from my

secret knotted vines.

i will drip

my yellowed honey

around your

hair in

milky moonlight

and will crush

the musty moss

’til its mingles

with the earth.

just because

you love me.



untangle me from the knotted strands

that are rolled around

have twisted and bound


in a tightly spun web,

unravel me from the ebb

and flow

of my own emotions that trap me

wrap me

in my hurts and flaws.

release me from the threads

that chafe me bare

from memories and feelings

that snag

and tear

me from within.

loosen me and let me be

unsnapped from each band

that spanned

my lifetime,

then unfurl my heart

into free air

and leave me there.



For the beautiful person who showed me hope on this desolate day



cutting blackness,


clinging past



for air,

reaching out


inside pain,



salted wounds






just a sliver of hope

to cling to.


like air to breath.




A tribute to my brother David who died shortly after he was born.

Once you were


a special piece

of me

left with you

on your journey

to stars.

by night

i see that star

i feel it’s radiance,

i catch it

with my dreams,

i become translucent

for a while,

in the darkness

all around me

you hold my


in your celestial hands,

as if i never

had had to say,

once you were.


The silent


on the inside,


drummed down by


dismal heart beat

crowded by pain

eroded by briny tears,

bunched up feelings

extracted from memories

essence of anguish,

languid sorrow



until you.

Dedicated to the person who helped me find my voice



Rancid menu

they served up

prejudice and misunderstanding

to me


from the same menu,

pages used

by age old patrons

same flavour


i gagged on the rotten over-ripe fruit

soured by shame,




grotesque in my loneliness,

i grew tired of this menu

i left.




what is beauty.

the moon above a leopard tree

indigo sky

a leathered face


saxophone blowing into the night


fragrant petals crushed and bruised

timeless words

dusty books

yellow stains

broken keys

shaky hands

dark pools

silent words





salt on air

fallen grief




This is dedicated to all the incredible human beings who I’ve met along the way. The beautiful souls who have taken up the challenge, set out to slay the dragons and build a beautiful life. I salute you all!

am i smoking

i’m burning on the inside, hot coals

my soul lies in ash

but there’s no smoke

no one sees the charred edges, they hide deep

they’re inside of me in the tinder place

melting, my heart is melting

rubber into flames

i wish for a spark to ignite

to penetrate the outside

i wish for grey smoke to rush around my frame

so they would know

i want them to know about the fire

but the flames will scare them away

no one will remain

the stench of singed emotions

will make them leave

and i will be all alone again

with the scorched bits

and no flame


A celebration of who I am

I wrote this on the 9th of August (Women’s day in South Africa), it was a dark day for me. I was feeling inadequate as a woman and wondering what on earth I had to celebrate. And then it dawned on me, I could simply celebrate the multi-faceted, chaotic woman that I am. Here are the words that ensued:


I am strong yet I am fragile

I am wild and also tame

I am brave in the face of danger

I am love and I know pain

I’m a stream, I am the torrent

I’m a fire, I am the rain

I am trust, I’m also fearless

I am the future, I am today

I’m the breeze, I am the lightning

I have depth and I am sky

I know sorrow, I know laughter

I’m the earth and I’m the flower,

I am fierce, I am gracious

I am great. I am small

I am the voice of broken heartbeats

I am the breath within a storm

I am woman, I am me!


A tribute to my support base ;- two men who so patiently, expertly and compassionately put my life back together again, a sister and daughter who held me up, a family who cared deeply, a mother who cried with me and my Heavenly Father who gave me hope. I am so grateful. You are the wind beneath my wings!


I was there

a cargo ship outside the harbour

no port to call home, un-docked but laden

shaken by the high seas, scrubbed down

by the tides

battered, bruised

rusted anchor, severed rope, so close but so far


without safety

at risk of sinking, washed away

then they saw me with my raised red flag

and they sent for me

pulled me into the safe port

surrounded by other vessels

I found my place

they mended me, restored my anchor, re-crafted my sails


ready to conquer high seas




you crumpled me, downsized me

to accommodate your overgrown ego

it is you who should shrink, not me

you have already broken me into tiny pieces

shards of who i was

and that magnifies your trumped up heart

you’ve replaced your brokenness with mine

used cold rhetoric

to crush who i am supposed to be

you breathe devastation, your pores

leak your very bitter essence

but you didn’t realise that light shines through shards

patterns on a flickering wall, light against dark

broken can be beautiful

broken is unbreakable

broken fragments become the artist’s palette

devastation rearranged to splendour




is there a bridge

between reason and hope,

them clutching the hard jagged stone

afraid to lose their grip,

willing themselves together

tentacles of fear snarling them up,

fact of life;-

sober, sensible,

dreams of life ;-

soul, senses,

inhaling purpose

choking on fear,

gasping desperation

breathing out fear,

taking in fear

exhaling purpose,

shrinking schism flouting fear

tentative bridge hanging with hope




strange how silence can be so loud

forcing through cracks

into the space in your mind

gushing in

filling voids

owning you

until there is nothing but the thunder of silence

crowding you in

like a shroud of heaviness

taking over your space

smothering you

taking your breath gulp by gulp

black weight

loud silence

no noise just faint heartbeat



longing for the sanctity of noise

eerie. reality.



Could she

small and broken

a girl

silently screaming

in the dark,


brave on the outside

tears on the inside

empty eyes,

too frightened to emerge

would they see her

who would they see

would they notice the raised skin

the dark purple scars,

could she hide them

could she close up the wounds

and move into the light,

could she find a voice

not loud, but there

something to be heard,

could she carry herself into the open

could she blink in the sunlight,

She could.