Inspiration comes in many forms

I went out purposely to arouse the muse. She didn't disappoint me.

At the Mic

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack.
The words I speak
will sound as foreign
as the announcements on a train
in Bangkok or Taiwan

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack
as I utter truths
and falsehoods held as truths,
within my mind;
clear it is in their own
not so clear out of this room.

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack,
but I will force the words
out of my mouth
and onto this page
until I see the story
bloom as a rose in my garden,
taking over its allotted space,
choking out the weeds
of discontentment,
freeing the echoes of that
something that wrinkles
the lines of my life.

Yes, I am afraid.
My voice will crack.
It is me
naked on the page,
for all to see.


© Catherine Woods 2018

Blue

Thanks to Cristy

The deepest oceans, the darkest seas
Your haunting eyes staring at bridesmaids
The blouse you wore last Thursday
Berries bought by the roadside
Aunt Amy’s house on McKinnon Street
The sky on the day I met you
A feeling after watching Forest Gump
The colour of the sheets on the bed where you passed away
A dog, a flower, a kind of chair
Raspberry popsicles bought on a whim in 1994
The handkerchief I found in the bottom drawer
The suitcase where I packed all your clothes
 Crescent Beach in April when the tide is high
and I’ve forgiven you for leaving me alone


© Catherine Woods 2018

A prompt to write - a sign for all of us

For  the last few weeks, J-35 has been carrying her dead calf around the Salish Sea, displaying her grief and her love.

16 Days of Grief

         In honour of J-35

You gave her life and

then she died.

You held her up

for all to see,

to see your pain,

to know you cared,

to show that grief is not limited

to human beings

watching young children shot at their school

through no fault of their own

or young soldiers slaughtered on far-away fields,

fighting in an elusive war

thousands of miles away.

Your grief is as plain as the nose of my face.

Your grief is as true as the love I feel for my daughters who live.

Your grief is an open wound to the world who’s forgotten

that grief is a necessary aspect of life and

to ignore it is

to ignore breathing.

© Catherine Woods 2018

A Poetry Reading - Different this time

I went to a poetry reading at the beginning of May at FOLD in Brampton, Ontario. I wasn't impressed; I felt out of place; I felt old.

I went to a poetry reading a few weeks ago at the Vancouver Public Library. I was impressed; I felt challenged; I felt like I belonged.

Within a room of poets at VPL

Chairs with red seats
Persons of all shapes, sizes, colours
Talking
Discussing
Gazing at their smartphones
Waiting
Remembering
Keeping their spirits close
Holding their words inside
Still waiting
Then listening to poets
Speaking
Whispering
Laughing at real life
Vocalizing anguish
Recalling abuse and terror
Reliving horror upon horror upon        loss
Uttering words that mean so much
To them
To us
To everybody
To the infinite point of existence
Out there


© Catherine Woods 2018