A poem

I have always written poems but have rarely shared them.  I have it on my ‘to do list’ to gather them together into a collection of some kind – one day.

I recently wrote a blog post about Francesca Woodman and, as happens at the most unexpected moments, I found myself scribbling this short poem down on a scrap of paper after waking up in the night.



“Where do you live?” she softly asks.
“Nowhere” I reply.
In-out-ness is my place, for
I am pushed and pulled between.”

“Are you happy in your place?”
she asks, uncertainly.
“Oh, it’s everything,” I say.
It is beauty, joy and pain.”

“When will I see your place?”
she asks, in anxious tone.
“You can’t come here,” I sigh.
In-out-ness is my own.”