One evening we walked a hundred meters or so up our narrow, dirt lane
And climbed three sets of stairs, painted green. We went
Up, up, up past low doorways where women sold their bodies on repeat
At enormous cost to themselves–but for very little change
~~~~
I remember breathing hard because of closed doors, muffled sounds
As I thought of faces that waited outside for business every day
But at the top stood our friend who gladly waved us in
And with a shy but happy smile, she introduced her home
Small room, large wooden bed, a burner, aluminum pots
Clothing for a family of four with everything in its place
And delicious smells floating–while her beloved pet birds sang
~~~~
But this regal woman was not caged up like her birds
From a life that with no choice began, she was flying free
With women like herself instead she was sewing beautiful things
Uncovering freedom and hope and respect from others
–And choice and dignity
~~~~
She served us curry, rice and dahl
Scooping up nourishment, flavored with love
A celebration of her daughter’s birthday, one more year
In a life that included radical things, like education and enough food
And a freedom as a young woman–that her mother never knew
~~~~
This scene, forever frozen in my heart and in my mind
Because while I have feasted on crystal
Tables precisely covered in linen
My water refilled with every sip
While rubbing shoulders with the mighty
I have never felt more honoured by an invitation than this
Into that humble home, invited in friendship–by her
~~~~~
—-This very personal poem was difficult to write. It is a memory so precious that I wanted to do it justice. I have also realised that while during those years there we focused on hope, partly because we saw good things happening and partly for our own mental wellbeing, I still have many choked back tears over things that we saw as well. A number of them got to slide down my face as this poem developed.
©Heather Pound 2021
Today I am not tasked to solve all this world’s ills
Today is just a normal day with ordinary things
And to be completely honest on this day I do not think
That I have anything left that is remarkable to give
~~~~
So today I spend my time seeking only simple things
Moments of beauty, pauses of peace
Like the sound of gentle raindrops pat-patting on fresh grass
The salty smell of wind as it blows in off the sea
Or sitting in companionable silence with someone that I love
~~~~
It is in these ordinary ways, on normal routine days
That show us who we are and what we’ll be
What habits do we cultivate, what values do we hold
What will we do with passions and with time
These simple things assembled are how we spend our days
And in the end, they’re how we’ll live our lives
~~~~
Don’t underestimate the power of an ordinary life
For every person who has done extraordinary things
Has still lived their life daily one humdrum moment a time
With many days consisting of just normal, average things
~~~~
–simple and faithful is how to change the world.
©Heather Pound 2021
“Everybody wants a revolution. But no-one wants to do the dishes.” -Craig Greenfield
The place where our souls find rest
Space and peace in the middle of the storm
It’s a destination of value and seeking it is
Of more worth than things like
Pleasing others, popularity, or fame
~~~~
There is power in the ‘calm’
It does not mean that you have all the answers
Or that you don’t care deeply for the needs of others
It is not withdrawn
It is simply a space in our souls that stays in the present
And gives voice to things
Like creativity and peace
~~~~
—–and don’t we need a bit more of that in our world?
©Heather Pound 2021
Today is blustery, miserable and damp
One of those spring days that you must endure
For all the glorious ones that will come
But as the wind screams fierce at my window
Two little quail peck happily in my garden
Fat and fluffy, plumes on top cheerfully dancing as if to say
While I watch in stillness from porthole above,
“You can praise the strong wind for our choice of shelter
We relish this break that your hedge provides
And this soggy turf is ideal in the searching for worms.”
So, as the wind continues to howl
I nod back in cheerful realisation that
If it wasn’t for the less than perfect day
I would have missed seeing something else
Perfectly beautiful indeed
~~~~
–there are treasures worth noticing in the midst of imperfect
©Heather Pound 2021
There was a time when trauma roared, vibrations under skin, constant
And inappropriately escalating whenever it chose
Electrified brain, galloping heart, splintered vision, at odds with thought
And despotically, cold-heartedly—-
Inconvenient
~~~~
When the most basic parts of our brains are confused
The ‘off’ and ‘on’ switch stuck tiresomely in-between
Trying to help, but just—–
Dysregulated
~~~~
The fortunate ones can one day speak of such things
Gloriously in past tense. Not meaning that sounds do not startle
Adrenaline too easy to find
But increasingly more pliant, manageable
More often than not
~~~~
It is as if one day after the sacred, demanding work that is healing
We choose to climb out of cocoon, released
Look up at the sky, unfurl soft wings and say,
“This space that I’ve been in, it no longer fits
I need to move about, wobble away. Because
This has been my story, will always be my story, but
My life is now bigger than this”
~~~~
—–there is hope within the cocoon of trauma and PTSD. And I heard a cancer survivor say, “I had cancer, but my life is getting bigger than this.”
©Heather Pound 2021
—–make self-care a part of each and every day!
I used to think that papaya tasted like cheap perfume
Until while living in the islands, one sprang up right outside my front door
The freshness must intensify the goodness, I reckon
Flesh still warm from the sun, juice dripping
Scraping away so many black balls of seeds before scooping.
Dropping those seeds straight into the rubbish because that same tree taught me
That for a plant that springs up fast, tall, appealing, and willowy in the wind
The roots, what is beneath the surface, are ruthless
Because one day very little water came from the tap. And when we found the culprit
It was that jolly pawpaw tree
Tempting us with its fruit, but roots spreading through pipes.
The plumber that knew about these things said that you just can’t let one spring up
Right up against the house
The damage that comes is swift and unexpected. And surprisingly fierce
So to taste that sweetness, you need to take a few steps away from your walls
Stretching your legs even a little bit
Protecting your boundary, what is important, from the tyranny of something
That looks pleasant in the moment, but can wreck your supply or something vital
©Heather Pound 2021
Today I choose to gather
Dewy fresh, not yet dried by the sun
Soft green stems, unaffected by wind
Bits and pieces, present; but often brushed aside, unnoticed—Joy
I will gather, not because it is scarce, but because without it
What is a life to be lived?
It is the food that sustains us, yet we try to survive
With stolen morsels, a guilty pleasure
Quickly consumed lest someone else notice
Then back to more important things at hand
~~~~
But what is a life without joy?
Grasp it by the face and kiss its mouth
It is companionship not only sweet, but
Necessary to ease the cracks in our souls
To soften calloused flesh within
~~~~
I will gather joy now while it may be found
Like jewels layered beneath thick autumn leaves
Not really hidden, yet inconspicuous, unseen
Until you pay attention and catch the glimmer
Where the sun breaks through the trees and shines
And bending down you rustle and grasp that which sparkles
To put it in your pocket
~~~~
——-let gathering joy become a habit.
©Heather Pound 2021
Heather Pound 