Heather Pound

the morning of the launch of my book
was like the day of my wedding
where I’d focused on planning the celebration ahead
for days and weeks before 

but on the daybreak of, i realised 
this was a time where things near and dear
to my heart, things most precious and cherished 
would be on display 

and the vulnerability of this 
well, it made me shake.

quite literally on the day that i wed 
as i posed for photos and the muscles of my smile
trembled and i had to frequently pause and breathe
to get the photos we wanted 
and the photographer wisely said
let’s just take a silly one and we pulled funny faces instead.

i love that photo still since it’s just me and my kids
letting the ‘proper’ slip and our inner weirdness out
and isn’t that vulnerable too? 

another favorite of that day is when we were caught
the six of us in our first official family hug, unplanned, unnoticed 
affection on display, exposed
a couple across an ocean now wed
four fatherless children held by strong arms.

and it was the moment when i was 
reading out poems from my beloved book
and the faces watching began to respond
and i saw the words that were mine
connecting with them, that i remembered 
vulnerability is nearly always worth it.

heather pound 2025

Photo by Jeremy Podborny

a morsel of wisdom is worth
every wrinkle upon your face,
grey hair above your head.

she is the blanket soft, yet fierce
of those who have wandered long enough 
to realise that even when 
she instructs you walk a path 
more rugged than you’d choose,
that her advice is worth it.

she is a warm and velvet comfort 
that rests upon your skin,
yet more watchful, protective, honest  
than any kind of armour polished
you used to strive to wear.

life with her is peaceful, pure
more than you ever comprehended
when your simple, constant default
was to take the easy road 

and all the things you gathered 
when you were merely young 
and have needed to unlearn

were worth every tear you shed
as you leaned right in and learned 
the harmonious, crystal voice 
of her wise, protective words. 

                                    ~heather pound 

Photo by Getty Images

you struggle to understand why thing after
increasingly difficult thing occurs
and it simply isn’t fair.
does not feel even remotely good.

but let me remind you, while God is 
in the heavens and sits upon majestic throne
he’s also here right now with you,
not as dictator malevolent, but as a shepherd
who loves, the originator of all that’s good

and maybe for now, today, this aches 
and with human eyes you struggle to see 
how anything remotely positive 
could ever arrive from this

but remember, dear one
you are creature formed for purpose 
a child made with gentle love

and sometimes those reasons 
you can’t see now, might be 
greater than you ever imagined

so, in your current ongoing difficulties
there is good, since you are fashioned 
for something greater than just today

and you can climb right up on his 
loving lap welcomed, lay your
head upon his shoulder protected,

and remember his eyes that see
from beginning to end 
have never actually failed you yet. 

heather pound 2025

Photo by Liane Metzler on Unsplash

the plant at the top of my stairs could really use a new pot.
it’s grown heaps and i think would like to grow some more.
but i quite like the planter it’s in. the way the shiny
wavy bronze reflects the morning sun,
and the plant hasn’t died yet.

so now i must choose,
do i keep the container, aesthetically pleasing
because i pretty much purchased the plant
in order to use the pot?

(this is the easy choice
requiring no effort or action
other than to continue the weekly water) 

or do i shift my gaze to the beautiful plant within
glossy and alive, deep pine-tree green,
and do the work, invest a bit, provide it the space to live
and flourish more beautiful still?

and metaphorically i wonder then how often we choose
the container we’re living in, beautifying the exterior
wearing shiny masks for others, limiting our growth 
and settling for a familiar, root-bound way of living
instead of doing the bit of work we need 
to thrive?

       —philosophical thoughts because of a potted plant

heather pound 2025

Photo by Ben Iwara For Unsplash+

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.

i will gather joy, not because it is scarce, but because without it how 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 the gathering of joy become a habit.

This is the very first poem in my book “Known.” I put it there to set the tone, to somewhat summarise the ethos of its pages. The book’s not about the concept of joy specifically, but each poem is intended to encourage intentionality in the way that we live, a slowing down to notice, to pick up savour all of the bright and beautiful in the midst of the rest, to feed our souls. Just like taking a minute to read a poem!

Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash

my parents had a volkswagen bus
baby blue on bottom, white on top
and i have no idea why, but i remember
exactly where the spare key hid.

that kombi van took us everywhere 
for a very long season, to shop and church
to lessons and to my brother’s soccer

games where our dad became the coach,
even though he’d never played, because no
one else would.

and each year, at least once, it drove us 
eight hours north to the place where 
my parents came from.

the place where a good share of my cousins 
still live. yet my folks were adventurous 
enough to move far away.

but on the return from one family voyage
in that beloved bus, we arrived at our home 
yawning and green 

and later learned the engine exhaust 
had crept back up though heating vents
into our waiting lungs.

and we were fortunate, really, to escape 
with just bodies efficiently working
to evacuate the carbon monoxide 

(although it didn’t feel great at the time!)

still, i invariably look with fondness 
upon the odd kombi van i see, reminding
me of family fun and adventures

and of my parents,
who although they lived  fairly normal lives,
didn’t always just follow the norm—

and how their example 
gave me the courage to do the same.

Photo by Ingo Doerrie on Unsplash

those people who do not know you,
all the in’s and out's of what makes you 
you: abilities and talents
experience and knowledge

all the ways you’ve grown
the various hats you’ve not just
owned, but learned to wear
with ease

do not hand them the keys 
to your value,
which does not begin 
nor end
based upon their opinion 
whatsoever

just because they do not yet
appreciate your worth 
does not diminish even
a fraction of an inch
of who you are 

so, hold those keys 
tight between two hands,
or even in your pocket
well and truly out of reach

until they have in reality earned
the right for their opinion
to matter to you
at all

Photo by Jared Subia on Unsplash

from my book “Known”

i am certain my cat can read my mind
because as soon as i merely consider 
that i must get up from my chair and into my day 
upon my lap she climbs

purring, wait a little longer, tarry, do not rush. 
stay right here with me
and let us commune 
in peace.

and often, if schedule permits,
i listen to her wisdom ancient 
for a time.

heather pound 2025

Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash