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I see your pain and long to touch the hurt and make it melt away. Yes, I know that I can’t really see the breadth and depth of this dark valley you’re in. I can’t truly know just how sharp the knife is in your soul – for it is you in its path not […]
She used to love the springtime. Days lengthened, the warmed earth gave life. The sun seems less warm this year. An undercurrent of pain flows through the hours. Surface pleasures serve only as distractions from the hollowness within. Each joy shared other years strikes sharp, and hard as the season wakens dormant thoughts of all […]
You are Peace amid my storms, sheltering arms in which to hide. (x2) Raging fears that crash and roar, hammer on me, bruised and sore; flooding round me, dark and cold – without You, I’ll lose my hold… You are Peace amid my storms, sheltering arms in which to hide. (x2) Weak and weary, still […]
The moon glows low, old ivory hanging in the trees, shining down the river in a crisp and cobalt evening. Clouds loom on the horizon as our passive words circle round and round what may be. We turn each stone again, rake through old leaves – foraging for options, contriving prudent actions when all that […]
We traced the edge of the sky on the gaunt grey rubbled hill. Distant on the wind, a lonely sound drew us on, beguiling voice of a rough-hewn land. We watched wings dip and soar beyond our recognition. A pensive lament threaded on the air securing our hearts to this wilderness, unfamiliar home. — […]
Morning dawns crisp and cold; light pours through the arches. Time stands aside as the train approaches inflexibly and words are drowned. The engines throb against the walls that enclose me. Your touch finds a chink in my numbness – and I walk home alone. — Christine Rigden
Like a windswept moor emptiness keens through me, catches my breath. Sleeting tears numb the grey hours. Cold granite offers shelter and I sleep. — Christine Rigden
I feel your pain and long to touch the hurt and make it melt away. Yes, I know that I can’t really see the breadth and depth of this dark valley you’re in. I can’t truly know just how sharp the knife is in your soul – for it is you in it’s path, not […]
Heavy words crouch along the rim of my conciousness. They know that I’m evading them. I pretend. Not so much that I don’t know. Rather, that there’s nothing there to notice, or evade. But still they sit. And I do know. — Christine Rigden
Winter-cold and snow-bright light, diffuse and pale. Bleached cotton fields are quilted, hedgerows and trees appliqued. Darting birds (the final touch) add their embroidery. — Christine Rigden