Heather Pound

i remember how when we were young,
my brother would always pray
not as if he was starting,
but joining in on a conversation 
already in motion.
“and God,” 
he would consistently begin.
“and God,” an ongoing conversation 
with a father who already listened.

later as i became an ‘expert’ prayer
storming the gates of heaven with 
request after ardent request,
i began to grow tired and stretched
and wondered if perhaps 
something 
was inherently amiss…

and while it didn’t appear a gift at first,
i was gifted a season of fragility
where i could do little else
but to sit 
and wait. 
heart wide open,
because that heart was broken.

and instead of all the effort
intensity, the endless cries of ‘should,’ 
the most i could muster was to 
open my eyes,
locate His face
and learn 
that no matter what i did or didn’t do, 
the eternal kindness
of his gaze was always fixed on me.

and together we would sit in silence
until maybe a word or a phrase 
bubbled up and overflowed.
and sometimes he’d whisper back,
“i’ve got this,” or other things like these,
but i would always be reminded that
no matter how weak i am, he’s strong.
and no matter how lonely or tired
discouraged or spent,
he is a fountain of living water fresh

i learned again that prayer
is about connection 
and that i was never meant to power right in
to consume a product, 
make a transaction

but to pause and reflect 
that our Father in heaven is already here,
and when i turn towards his magnificent
loving, powerful gaze
—it’s already turned towards me. 

so really, “and God,” is actually a perfect way
to join back in on this 
ongoing conversation
again.

heather pound 2026

Photo by Hanny Naibaho on Unsplash

 you 
are never forgotten
no matter how long 
the journey has been,
in spite of how alone
the road seems right now.

the heavens
may have felt silent 
for quite an extended time.

but please pause
and recall his promise
that you are still seen
and you are still loved.

your name’s still engraved
across the immortal palm 
of the Maker’s capable hand.
a careful noting indelible 
of something never to be forgotten.
the outward sincere expression 
of an eternally faithful heart

and if right now you’re unsure 
that he recalls your needs
your present circumstance,
keep on knocking at the door 

and wait
for goodness yet to come.

-heather pound-

photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova for Unsplash+

i was born with north american english
spoken in my ears, flowing from my tongue
and ‘homely’ was a word only whispered 
from the side of mouths, quiet. 

“that’s a rather homely baby,” 
is not a phrase i would have ever said,
a comment unkind about the face 
or appearance of another.

so, the first time someone in another country
effusively said, “your house is so homely!” 
i was completely confused, but realized
offence was never meant. 

and years before, after my first return to the islands 
after visiting ‘back home,’ we popped up the road 
to say hello to dear fijian friends.
“you’ve gone fat!” was declared with welcoming
hug and kiss upon the cheek

and sensing my confusion, the speaker swiftly said, 
“no, no, your family was happy to see you. 
they fed you well and that is good. we wouldn’t think 
they really loved you otherwise.” and i later learned 
that a flirty word called to someone else passing by
actually meant ‘fat.’ (i know of multiple marriages 
that eventually sparked from this)

so even now, in a land that is my home 
but wasn’t mine from birth, 
i control my face and habitually pause 
when i’m not sure what was meant. 

this limits me from winning 
the odd potential fight,
but is a recipe for peace
and more friends than enemies.

	—take everyone with a grain of salt 

heather pound 2026

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

when you find yourself 
in a battle fierce
consuming your bandwidth,
constant in thoughts
overthinking on overdrive,
ask yourself a couple of things:

what part of me 
is leading this fight? 
a portion unhealed, 
ensuing from a place of pain?
or an intentional, mindful self, 
my chosen values to guide the way?

and who am i fighting for? 
a version of me that wasn't able 
to right a similar wrong, desperately 
longing  to try again? or the actual subject,
the issue, right here, right now in this?

because nuances always matter
in how you approach these things,
one from a place of freedom:
aware, considered, controlled.
the other relentlessly, harmfully fuelled.
a whirlwind of pain. 

heather pound 2026

Photo by svklimkin on Unsplash

there was a time when it felt as if
someone else wrote the story
that was your very own life
and created with harsh words cruel
pictures of who you were

indicating the flaws that were theirs 
were actually yours,
and you knew this was unfair, untrue
but these words, they were frequent
and slowly began to 
           seep
           beneath 
           your skin,
           regardless

and even through you resisted so hard,
at times they made their way 
right through your beating heart. 

this image that someone else penned 
           has lingered
and in your most vulnerable of moments
you still carry the taint
of hurtful, projected words 

but let me tell you this,
you were not the one 
who held the pen.
you were never the one who 
formed those dreadful phrases
or wrote distorted words.

you were simply there
           targeted. 

and now what you can do
is to pick up the pen
and write anything at all that you choose.
           a story that’s yours
and absolutely should have been yours
           all along

Photo by DaYsO on Unsplash

Go ahead, just bring YOU.

i look at you
and my heart is sore
since i know you’re doing your level best
and have come this far already

but i see the struggle 
the grief, the hurt, the frequent pain
the moments of despair.

i wish i could bear this for you,
but i will cheer you on
listen to your thoughts
hold space for you to weep.

if you don’t believe it yourself—i do
(i always have and i always will)

that you will make it up this mountain,
summit that lofty peak.
you will plant your flag victorious,
and triumphantly proclaim 
“i have done it, this is mine.”

and while i’ll celebrate with joy,
dance freely in the street,
i won’t be surprised at all
because i always believed
you would.

heather pound 2025

Photo by Rosie Kerr on Unsplash

on the very last visit,
(the one before the call 
and the rush to her bedside
to wait)

she said, “why don’t you just take it,’
and pointed to the teeny golden shape
behind glass on a shelf
that she knew i eventually wanted.

(she must have somehow known 
her time was near)

an elephant, one of many gifted to her
over the years by those who knew 
she had lived in a village 
in rural south asia

and loved these gentle giants
back when they would amble through
the village, and one must be aware
that tigers still roamed free.

yet this pachyderm was made
in a different exotic place,
formed with the shells of bullets 
from a despot’s terrible reign.

it was repurposed and brought by her son
(who later became my husband)
and treasured ever since
—a reminder that love always, always 
conquers hate.

and now it sits near my bedside,
next to the photo of us mere minutes after
he got down on one knee to propose
to this widow in south asia, but in an
urban place 

where we later lived and rubbed shoulders 
with women inexcusably harmed and 
were honoured to watch them 
remember that love conquers hate
every time. 

	—tapestry of life


heather pound 2025