Lavender, tea tree and Himalayan salt

Autumn leaves coat the pavement
like careless gems,
their silent bodies slowly rotting.

Likewise, a finger glowers and sweats,
unhappily attached to a hand so busy surviving,
it hurts more than it helps.

Days later, betrayed by Mary, Jesus, God,
lavender, tea tree and Himalayan salt,
the body interferes

insisting on manufactured
ointments, pills and plasters
to cover and protect what it cannot heal.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter, send me your email address.

• View or buy my work at my online portfolio
• Save 30% and buy from me direct
• Learn more about my work and the inspiration that guides it
• Keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter

Lemon Juice

Time hangs immobile,
stubbornly static;
like stagnant air.

A dog at my feet,
a kettle on the hob:
worrying…

An accident with a knife;
a sudden slit:
and blood, everywhere.

Lemon juice smarts
and the day – already grey,
darkens.

With the hours stretching further
than my eyes can see,
and the space in-between longer

than my mind can imagine:
I am not only scared,
I am terrified.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter, send me your email address.

• View or buy my work at my online portfolio