On the Wings of a Prayer

If I doubt you, God. If I doubt you. I look out and I see the feathered creatures of many different colours and sizes. To me, they are indescribable beauty. They are the place I go to see your face. I see you in their eyes and character. I hear you in their perfect song. I watch them fly so close to you. I envy how they know you so.. They belong.

So sweet and pure and full of life. Do they awaken feeling lost and void of purpose?
The way I do each and every day?
I know they don’t. I know they know their place and that they see your face the way I can only long. I hear you in their perfect song. I adore them. I want to adore you.. But wait.. Maybe I do

Killed by Christmas Tree Lights

So today Dad goes for his first radiotherapy session.


I think back to the couple we met there two weeks ago. The man, Derrick, had just gone through an awful operation to remove a brain tumor and they were going to give him radiotherapy.. but they had decided it wasn’t worth giving him the radiotherapy as it wouldn’t help and may lessen his quality of what little life he has left. Three months, in fact. That’s the time limit they had been given. He and his lovely wife were now faced with breaking that news to their daughter. Incredibly, he was smiling and joking. I suspect that inside his heart was breaking and he was afraid. Her too. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hold them both, but I held it together somehow instead. I find myself thinking how Christmas will be for that family – knowing it is their last chance to spend it together, wondering how sick he will be. Tears well up in my eyes.


In our case, we have not been given a time limit. But we know Dad cannot be cured. The treatment they are doing is to prolong his life as much as possible.. to hopefully send him into remission and hope that it wont come back too soon. I don’t think there are any guarantees.. everyone is different and responds to the treatment differently.. but please God. It could be years, it could not.. but one way or another we will always be living under a dark worry cloud that it could return . And we haven’t even got him into remission yet.. nine gruelling months of chemotherapy are upon us.


In a sense, I suppose each of us does not know how long we have or what could happen unexpectedly. People are suddenly gone in terror attacks, car crashes, freak accidents.. apparently people are even killed by Christmas tree lights! With all the different things that can go wrong with our own bodies and minds aswell, it’s a wonder any of us are surviving at all.


But we are.. just about surviving.. each of us in our own way. Most of us are too busy rushing around, trying to remember all the things they need to get done that day, to even think upon their own fragility or transience. They don’t have time to notice the birds flying gracefully across that picture perfect sunset. They don’t have time to question why we are here and what we are here for, they can only just catch enough breath to stumble from day to day.


My own life has been rather a stumble. I feel like five minutes ago I was a fresh-faced teenager. I blinked and found myself here, with very little to show for it. What I do hold dear is now threatened, and I have never felt so vulnerable and afraid of the future. I’m afraid of so many things right now.


I have always had a faith, I was brought up with one. It is a simple one which dwells in my heart and consists of a loving thy neighbour ethos. I believe in being kind and caring. I don’t believe in judging others, but I do judge myself rather harshly. There are things I don’t know I will ever forgive myself, but I learn to live with that. People tell me God forgives, but how I feel right now.. it is as if he doesn’t much like me. I ponder upon that.. I shall continue to do so most likely until my own final breath.


So, anyway, I digress. Now I must sign off and get ready to take Dad for his treatment. Apparently it could cause vomiting, it could affect his short-term memory (tbh that has always been questionable). But hopefully it will shrink that bleeping tumor.


***The picture above is one of the moments I managed to capture those birds across the sunset.




I have played out my life in a dormant state for so long now, just hoping and longing that something or someone would come along and stir me to life. Then, and only then, my existence would matter. I would finally have value and purpose. But no-one ever came and nothing has ever been enough, nothing has ever been right or as it should have been.. and nothing has ever mattered, least of all me. Not the little girl who walked alone in a noisy playground, nor the seven year old they said they didn’t like. Not the quiet, uncomfortable teenager at the back of the class or the one who, after being removed from school because she had stopped eating, discovered that alcohol – whilst not completely removing the pain – at least numbed it somewhat. The lost little girl who tried and failed so many times at being a grown-up.



Being sort of dead and yet alive is a peculiar state to find yourself in. On the one hand you are cold and unfeeling, yet on the other, your utter longing to reach out and touch the beauty and joy that life can possess, makes you warm inside. You look at those other lives from the outside with your eyes, but you feel them deeply in your heart too. You long to become a part of that world, to experience things the way they do.. and you search for ways that might bring you closer to their reality and further from your own. It is a dangerous game to play – separating yourself from who you are, because there then lies a person who is just an empty shell and one which may quite possibly be sucked up and molded into something quite unrecognisable.



I have played that game, I have danced with the devil and I have stared blankly back at myself wondering what had happened to the person I once was. The person who was brought up to have morals and to believe in one love within the sanctity of marriage. The person who truly believed in and longed for that kind of lifelong partnership. The person who waited.. and waited.. and waited.. and then finally wilted and died. That girl was no longer me. No, she was but a corpse laid out on a platter that night.. and he treated her as such.

Faintly Alive – poem

Droplets fall

Land in my

Outstretched hand

I call

My mind

Where did you go?
I beg for

A different


I am

So lost

Can take no more
I bow, I kneel, I pray

Exactly in the way

I always have

I always do

I always will

Be still you say

But I need something back


And I wait.. Still
Looking , searching

Listening for your heartbeat

But only mine

It beats alone

Faintly alive

For can a lonely heart

Ever thrive?