To The Man On The Train Who Moved Seats Because He Thought I Was Madcame from one of those moments. A quiet collapse on a public journey, a stranger’s reaction and the weight of everything I was carrying: not just sorrow for the father I’d lost, but disappointment in others who should have stood beside me and didn’t.

On reflection, that’s been one of the hardest parts: realising that the people who are supposed to be closest to us in times like this can, in fact, be the ones who let us down the most. I came to the painful decision that, for my own peace, it was better to stop trying to hold on, to let go of the ties that only caused more hurt.

This poem is a glimpse into that space: the mess of mourning, the loneliness of being misunderstood, and the strange, sharp clarity that sometimes comes with loss.

I hope it meets you wherever you are in your journey of grief and reminds you that you’re not alone in the ache.

"Blindsight" explores origins before consciousness, examining humanity's cosmic connection while questioning existence and our inevitable return to earth.

What the Dogwood Tree Knows : pamphlet

Please contact me for a copy.

red ink on paper

pain hidden within words

slowly comes alive

At the start of spring,

                                      Verdant buds form,

                                       subtle, still

                                      yet

                                      tightly closed like a fist 

                                      that won’t budge