(NaPoWriMo, day 28. Taking inspiration from a description of Emily Dickinson’s cozy room, the prompt was to describe ‘a bedroom from your past … or another significant space from your life’.)
i’m starting to miss it now, this space. closest i’ve got
to a room of my own. these walls have been my office
twice, with a break. in that break, memories
of the worst times. but not in this room, or not mine.
things this space holds: conversational haikus.
cards from old friends and new. stacks of long-ago
notes, forgotten for years at a time. a poster,
september 97: ‘para todos todo’. questions: ‘how
do we encourage courage?’ a calendar my dad made,
now stuck on march. photos of others. echoes of
conversations in fading daylight that resonate still.
a green paper butterfly. a mosaic, many colours on
yellow, gathering emotions into a shared space.
memories of meetings, only some of which planned,
a table that adapts. plants on the window sill, more
beautiful than the view will ever be. a peace lily
on the desk. always a bit on the edge, as they all
will be now. prints of last year’s leaves. paper cranes,
assorted colours and patterns. a friendly pig’s face,
carved from a piece of wood. a tea towel that speaks
of curries and pies and hugs and yorkshire grit.
a gallery of postcards, bluetacked to plastic:
keepsakes for grenfall. mementoes of an artists’ march,
manchester to london. a basket that carries metaphors
into classrooms. books that have become companions
and those yet unread, now out of reach. teabags:
black, peppermint, chai. a yellow kettle, no longer
needed at home. my favourite mug: memories
of healing, words from adam curle: ‘above all, love’.