I’ve shed an unreasonable amount of tears for your beautiful family and the stories both you and Wendy weave and share. There you go again, wet pillow, touched heart, stirred soul.
It feels so strange to publish that poem, set in the late-summer field by my English house, where it’s now lightly snowing there and I’m sat here (briefly) in Sydney’s heat. Connected and very disconnected at the same time.
There is something so authentic and deeply personal about the way you both write. As I read your work it’s like the story is emerging from deep within my soul, I guess it says something about the universal nature of emotions and parallel experiences.
If I still lived in Sydney I could buy you that coffee I’m planning on buying you Ian, but I’m a little too far north suffering a next level humid heat.
to picture the scene, where the first-born survived
– that would mean without doubt
that his brother would never have been."
Ian, very heavy poem but beautiful. I appreciate the way you call out the futility of selectively editing the past in impossible ways.
We end up recognizing that we are living in the only possible future... The one that actually happened. And our only option is to fully live there. Beautiful work.
I’ve shed an unreasonable amount of tears for your beautiful family and the stories both you and Wendy weave and share. There you go again, wet pillow, touched heart, stirred soul.
It feels so strange to publish that poem, set in the late-summer field by my English house, where it’s now lightly snowing there and I’m sat here (briefly) in Sydney’s heat. Connected and very disconnected at the same time.
There is something so authentic and deeply personal about the way you both write. As I read your work it’s like the story is emerging from deep within my soul, I guess it says something about the universal nature of emotions and parallel experiences.
If I still lived in Sydney I could buy you that coffee I’m planning on buying you Ian, but I’m a little too far north suffering a next level humid heat.
"Pointless, so pointless,
to picture the scene, where the first-born survived
– that would mean without doubt
that his brother would never have been."
Ian, very heavy poem but beautiful. I appreciate the way you call out the futility of selectively editing the past in impossible ways.
We end up recognizing that we are living in the only possible future... The one that actually happened. And our only option is to fully live there. Beautiful work.
Beautiful poem Ian x
For the one to be here with you, the other must have gone…
So moving and, yet, so inarguably true.
I don’t think I could have written about this as you have, Ian.
I hope it helps you both.
This is beautiful. Painful, but beautiful.
Mesmerising and bravely expressed. I find the use of rhyme oddly appropriate here. Stunning work 💙
Thanks Caroline 🙂