Number-one bestselling author
I can hear the sound of leaves
whenever you walk,
rustling along the ground.
I look down to see if
I can spot them,
trailing merrily along after you.
Every time I do,
I am shocked to find
that there are no leaves
fluttering in your wake.
It was only when
I began to hear the leaves
sliding along the ground as I walk
that I understood.
The leaves are your music,
a soft silky sound,
like paper leaning to fly.
I carry your music
inside of me,
your love for me
is like a symphony of leaves
and wind, singing its song
that fills every crevice
of my body.
I can feel them swirling
inside of me,
basking in the light
we share with each other.
That light intensifies
every time we touch,
each time we kiss.
My love for your
is its own symphony,
a swirling of leaves and wind
and so much light
that it would be blinding
to the naked eye.
When the two swirls intermingle,
a brilliant thing occurs:
the wind is replaced
by a voice that is singing,
my vision is overtaken
by the light emanating
from both of us
and every touch is a note
inside that voice,
every touch a pause
before the crescendo.
Every kiss is like a flare
of wind and light,
within that song,
We carry an orchestra
of wind, light and leaves
within us that
will continue to sing
for our song
has just begun.
The trees have returned.
I can see them out of
the corner of my eyes,
their leaves waving
like fingers trying
to beckon me closer
so that they can wrap me
in a dark embrace.
I can feel my body
answering their shrill call,
a heaviness in my chest
that is filled with nothing but shadows.
I breathe deeply, trying
to find my centre,
trying to brush past
the well inside of
me that is filled with malaise
instead of the water and ink
that brings words.
There is no reason for the
dark forest to return,
but it is always there,
underneath my skin,
waiting to burst
forth from inside me.
A woman is walking towards me.
I almost don’t see her through
the thick branches.
She puts a hand on my arm and says:
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
I look at her and decide
that she’s genuine.
“I’m trying to get away. The trees are too strong.”
She gives me a kind smile.
“You carry a forest inside of you, don’t you?”
I nod grimly.
“You know, if you don’t let the bad stuff out, it’ll push itself out in the most bizarre ways.”
I thank her and move on.
The trees have grown thick around me,
the rustle of the branches,
the call of the wind
and its lullaby whisper
is almost too strong.
Something is struggling
to break free of my body.
I can feel it in my throat,
and I try to keep it down,
attempt to keep the shadows
inside of me. I’m kneeling
on the ground. I hear footsteps.
I look up to see the woman
that stopped me before.
“You have to let the bad stuff out. You can’t keep it inside. Go on now, let it out.”
I nod, tears in my eyes,
streaming down my cheeks.
I open my mouth wide
and a piece of shadow slips out of me,
resembling nothing but sludge.
Then, as we watch,
it begins to shape itself
into the shape of a Crow.
Its eyes regard me with
curiosity, unsure of me.
Its feathers shine like
obsidian and it ruffles its feathers.
“It’s beautiful.”
I whisper.
“Yes,” She says. “The darkness can be beautiful. But we mustn’t let it consume us.”
“So what do I do? How do I walk away from the forest?”
I realise that she is kneeling beside me,
as she is so close. There is a warmth
coming from her that fills my body.
“You have light inside of you. Use that to banish the dark. What else can the Crow be?”
I shake my head, unsure of what to say.
“You are a writer, are you not? Why not make some ink? Fill the well inside of you with ink instead of shadows.”
I blink at her and then nod.
I look at the Crow,
feel the pulse of its darkness
inside of me. I blink my eyes,
thinking of a pen, of something that
can hold ink and stories inside of it.
Wishing for something
to keep the shadows at bay,
to combat the lullaby of darkness.
When I open my eyes,
the Crow is gone. In its place
is a pen of black obsidian
and a black journal
waiting to be written in.
I look up to thank the woman
but there is no one there.
I stand as if I have just won
a battle, taking hold of the pen and journal
and I feel them pulse,
full of the stories
waiting to be written.
The first time I met you,

I was nervous. I had never
had a mother in law.
However, I needn’t have worried.
You were as kind and selfless
as your son. As I got to know
you better, I felt the warmth
that emanated from you,
saw the light within your eyes.
At one point, you said to me:
“I don’t like the way I look.”
When I look at you,
all I see is beauty.
Your kindness comes through
in every touch, every hug.
Your generosity of spirit
shines out from you
in every note of concern,
every gesture that you make.
Your beauty shines forth
like a light that can
be seen by all around you.
When I look at you,
all I see is beauty personified,
as if your body and soul
are alight with flame.
I have known few people
as beautiful as you are.
So to you, I say
let your light shine brightly,
shine your light for all to see.
Beauty comes from within
and you are beautiful.
I never really knew
what home was until
I met you.
Growing up, there were
temporary shelters from the shadows,
places to lay my head down,
rooms to sleep in,
but even they had ghosts
from my past that
I carried with me.
Now, with you, I have
left behind the shadows
and the dark, and we
have built a home together.
More than that,
with every piece of furniture
that we placed,
I was putting a piece
of my heart back
where it belonged.
With every piece of art
that was hung,
I was putting a window
into my soul so that
you could see into me.
With every lamp
that was lit, it only served
to make my own light grow
bright enough so that
it shone like the sun or
wishes fulfilled.
You have shown me
that home is indeed
where the heart is
and my home is
wherever you are
because you hold my heart
so completely.