Saturday, 16 July 2016


I had a dream, or something, that woke me up last night.

I was hovering above a small family. They were walking home. They had bundles of bedding with them as though they'd been forced out but now they were coming home. I watched them round the corner to their street and it was gone. Bombed. I saw the man and boys stop in their tracks, just looking, and I heard her, the mother, begin to keen and wail and I felt a wrenching in my gut.

They say that when women give birth, there comes a moment when we feel connected to all other women who ever have, or ever will, go through that experience. I felt her pain in the same way, the universal depth to which we feel ourselves and our homes to be one. I knew that she felt - that I would feel - that to lose one's home is to be destroyed.

We can analyse that, say whether it is right or wrong, whether a woman is or should be more than what she does for her family but let's not. Let's just acknowledge what is.

I wrote the piece below because of that dream. Or whatever it was.

I am my house.

I am my stove and the dishes in my sink.

I am what's for supper and breakfast and lunch
for as long as I have someone to feed.
For as long as I have someone to feed, I am.

I am my child's loose tooth.
I am my husband's desire.
I am the water jug that needs filling,
I am the water jug full.

I am their laughter
their troubled sleep soothed
I am theirs.

They are mine.

I am the mouse in the laundry room
and the sun on the sheets and the fragrance of fresh bread
and the sweet fruits I have planted.

I am also me.

I am also mystery.
I am hatred and anger.
Behind the door of my heart
in the hallway
hangs a shotgun
and it's loaded.

Don't tell me that I am 'more'
when this is what I tell you I am.
I AM my house and my kid's loose tooth and my husband's desire.
I AM the dishes in the sink.

These are not petty things,
These are more than you could know, they are everything.

I will guard my dishes to my death.


  1. Calling is identity. Asking what someone does may not answer that question, but asking about that sense of calling reveals way more than we can put into words.

  2. Very interesting post. Thanks for all your posts in the rooms of your virtual house, so to say. They've been comforting, at times, and thought provoking, too.

  3. Thanks for coming by, everybody. I always appreciate hearing from y'all.

    A LOT.