The Journal
Poems about rage, motherhood, politics, grief, awakening and the refusal to be quiet. New work posted as it happens. Read, share, feel something.
Because. We.
Because I am an English woman,
and I care what happens there.
Because what they do with women’s rights
ripples through the global air.
Because in the land of the free,
they’ve locked the clinic door…
Can You Even Imagine?
I didn’t mean to cry today
not in the cereal aisle.
Not because of war.
But I thought about my boy,
his Spiderman pyjamas,
the way he skips when he runs…
There’s no spreadsheet for this feeling
It’s 7:44am. I’m already tired. There’s one odd sock again. Never two. Who knows where that other one goes. There’s grated cheese on the floor and a child saying, “Can I go on the iPad now?” before I’ve even finished wiping the tears from that video of a mother in Gaza digging her baby out of rubble…