Kirstie Sivapalan
Addendum: It saddens me that our current government is using "healing" in their language for political gain. Healing is required, yes, but healing that is used for the benefit of a select group is not healing at all, it is ego. We do need to work to support each other, whatever our view, but we… Continue reading Start the healing
No poem or funny story for you. Just some thoughts and a plan... It's been a difficult week Less By Thursday the combination of the confirmation of that individual as leader of the Conservative Party, which supposedly makes him my PM, the way above average or even peak temperature that day and M.E symptoms were… Continue reading Only love
Out of chaos, out of form, comes balance. It reveals itself, not to those who crave order but to those who walk through the mire. It holds those undesired in its arms, its cradle soothing their dissonance. It looks into our world of spinning thoughts and yearning, and speaks: "Find me in your middle, draw… Continue reading The seeking of balance
What if we are angels in training? Each a step closer to our wings Although these wings are not feathery and light They are made of the strongest substance in the Universe, forged by experience and powerful learning They are every colour of our emotions They are soft to touch after lifetimes of abrasion Yet… Continue reading Winged
Yesterday I had that moment all aspiring writers have. "Why I am doing this? Am I even any good? Am I just indulging myself? Should I even bother sharing my work?" I allowed myself some time to reflect on this, to ask the question without a furious search for the right answer. Instead I remembered… Continue reading Composure
Our Modern life is full of Sabre-tooth tigers Warring of clans and poisonous spiders Dirty dank water and cavernous pits Furious fires and razor sharp cliffs Or so our brain thinks, accustomed to caution Hard wired to react, all out of proportion A disease of our time, a shameful admission Anxiety and stress that we… Continue reading Sabre tooth post-truth
Normally I am Little Miss Hopeful, relentlessly optimistic about humanity and our future. Some days, days like the day I wrote the first "movement" of this poem, drops of despair and confusion trickle through and for a while it becomes that much harder to find the light. I wrote Wake after reading my morning news,… Continue reading Wake
Some days I just want to sit under a tree. This is the Bank Holiday day we always dream of but very rarely see. Powder blue sky, lush green trees at the height of their vibrancy, parks full of string bikinis, string vests, local boys impressing local girls with too-loud music, bare stomachs and alcopops.… Continue reading My Bank Holiday and M.E
I have such an urge to write at the moment. The words are all clamouring for their audience and different ones want different platforms too. Some want to crawl out of the end of my pen and seep into my notebook, some want to fly out and take nest in its pages. Some are more… Continue reading Stories to tell
If you have had a miscarriage, still-birth or lost a child very young, you might find yourself wondering what their life would have been like. You might mark their birthdays or the anniversary of their departure from this world, or daydream about what they might have done or experienced. As for me, I did not,… Continue reading The Girl That Never Was
Writing and M.E. 