I wrote this poem and the note below it on 1 March 2003, in response to the Iraq War. Sometimes those of us opposed to that war were accused of having forgotten the dead of 9/11. Just like now when those of us opposed to the bombing of Gaza are accused of indifference to the dead of October 7th.
Continue readingpoetry
Despair and the inner life
How do we continue with the inner work when everything is scary and bleak?
One book that really helped me with this question is Hope in the Dark by Rebecca Solnit.
And I also think that it is necessary for activists to practice self care (in the Audre Lorde sense of self care, which is more of a communal and radical self care, not the commercialized version).
Sometimes, when things are overwhelmingly bleak, spirituality can seem like self-indulgence (especially when it doesn’t acknowledge the suffering of others).
Continue readingSecret night song – new poetry book
New poetry book, just published.
Poetry reflecting on the land, the seasons, and the hidden rhythms of Nature.
Her eyes are flowers
Her eyes are flowers
That turn towards the sun
Her hair is tangling vines that run
Over your carefully manicured lawn
After the rain. She wakes at dawn
Hungry for the kiss of sunlight.
She is the shadows of leaves
The sound of roots pushing into the earth
She is the silent ancient mirth
Of ivy gnawing at buildings
Of the conquest of bindweed. She never
Yields an inch of ground.
She is the smell of wet earth,
Compost and leaf mould and worm-cast,
Her love may be slow but it is vast.
Her hour is always now and never past,
She will endure. She scatters her seeds
Over the whole earth, an endless dance.
Her speech is the pollen carried
From flower to blossom to flower
Whispering her vast design across the land.
Her songs and sighs are carried by the wind
Into your carefully sealed houses,
Into your dreams.
©️ Yvonne Aburrow
25 May 2023, 12:50 pm
Blogging/photo challenge
The Changing Paths challenge for May 2023. Feel free to skip a day or post something different from the topic of the day, but if you do the whole thing, I think you’ll arrive at a new perspective on your path.
Continue readingthe fire within
the fire within 🔥 a poetry zine by Yvonne Aburrow
PayPal me $5 with your email address and I will email you the pretty full colour PDF and the printable version.
Large drinks I have made friends with
A poem for SN.
Many large drinks have I made friends with,
That are mentioned in ancient myth,
And cause there to be much frith,
Among all the kin and kith.
The language of flowers
Back in the day, people would send bouquets fraught with meaning. You could buy little handbooks with lists of the language of flowers, so you could anxiously decipher the bouquet sent to you. You’d better hope that you and the sender were using the same system, because some of these meanings are different than the ones on other lists… Thank goodness we have emojis nowadays!
Continue readingTrans Day of Remembrance 2022
So many brief candles,
So many deaths to mourn,
So many names upon our lips,
Each year a litany of names.
Their unique and perfect beauty
Crafted once by time and circumstance
Snuffed out too soon
Calling out for justice.
Write their names among the stars
Write their names on the wind
Etch the loss into the stones
Until the world changes.
Good night, Moon
Inspired by the title, and the quasi-animism, of Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon, which I only found out existed today, as it was featured on CBC.
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Dowsing for Divinity 