Very happy the Herald will be posting a poem of mine for awhile. I am not sure if they are poems. They need a new word. Lockdown writings. Maybe it is a nocturnal diary. They arrive in the middle of the night and spin in my head during the day and then hit paper. Karyn Hay talked about writing in her contribution to the comfort reading list I posted on Friday 17th April. I so identified with it. There is no model at work here. There are different urgencies and stasis, multiple ways of connecting. But I do feel an urgent need to write before the sun comes up. Some of us are writing and some of us aren’t, some of us are reading and some of us aren’t, some of us are baking bread and some of us aren’t, and I think the last thing we need is pressure to do anything that does not aid our well being.

My poem has lost all the spacing between sections and I don’t care. I do care that after almost giving up hope the cress and the spinach have poked through the earth. And peas. And something else, the rain washed my writing away. Now I wait for other little miracles as I do what I can.

Thanks Herald !