Friday, 7 August 2015

In the Grasslands of my Soul, I...

(Buttercup meadow behind the house in which we used to live - I miss it...)


In the Grasslands of my Soul, 
I sink into the deep grass, 
Into buttercups and daisies.
The soil is a warm bed.
I feel supported, held.
Overhead the clouds scud by, 
Sun playing peek-a-boo with Earth.
I hear the drone of bees,
See a flash of insect wings.
I breathe deep... and long... and slow...
Time stands still.

I am again the cute 3-year-old
Running up the slope to home.
I am again the plain 8-year-old
Rolling back down.
I am again the serious teenager
Avidly reading Hardy and Woolf.
I am again the mother
Delighting as my children find
Grassland joy for themselves.

And I am Me, here now,
A Woman of the Earth.
She with the Wild Soul,
who has walked tall in the Desert,
who was named in the Forest,
who was lost and alone in the Ocean,
who found her purpose on the Mountain,
And who has now come Home.


  1. Marvellous meadow - I would miss it too... and soulful words.
    Have a blessed weekend

    I've written in this week a story about the house, were I've grown up, first part is fiction (with real elements), the second is real, how we found the parasol...

  2. It is a beautiful poem again, there is so much depth in your journey.

  3. Such a wonderful place Claire, and your are very inspired, lovely poem.


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