St Nicks

Centre for nature and green living

Creative writing

Ecotherapy Project Manager Kathy Sturgess preparing for a creative writing session by the fire
Ecotherapy Project Manager Kathy Sturgess preparing for a creative writing session by the fire

These are just a few examples of the group’s writing, all by Esther Clare Griffiths.

 

I’ll Always Remember You The Same

I’ll always remember you the same

Eyes like wild flowers within demons of change

The fury of a forgotten dream wrapped in pain

A whisper of your past, a window of change

I’ll always remember you the same

Your foot tapping to a beat in your head

A fringe clouding your eyes, changing lanes

Bittersweet shock of melancholy words she said

I’ll always remember you the same

Drenched fingers stretched across a guitar

Your children’s chalky lines smudge the rain

Winter steals away her joy, Spring shadows seem far

I’ll always remember you the same

Your heart hurt, wrapped itself in spiky thorns

Slow sunlight plays across your face and hides

Windows open, a new start creeps, no more torn.


Every Break in my Heart
He was leaving again, stealing a part of me, sending sadness through every vein. Stooping, he picked a pebble and gave it to me, shy smile, a flash of pain flickering in his eyes. I took it, glad to have soft, smooth, solace. Grey flint, sharp edges, silky sides turning in my hand, eeking comfort. Brief hug and ‘love yous’, my hand tightened round the cold stone, like I could take him away in my pocket. Always with me, never leaving, constant, safe in smiles. A single silver tear brushed away, unseen, shy of pain in front of him, still shielding my little brother, wanting him safe, free from every break in my heart.


Hope Crackling
“Let’s make a swing!” Her excitement was so stark, pure. I felt myself swept into her miniature, fairy world. Grabbing a small, scraggy, flat piece of seaweed, we made a slide, little seats with tiny pebbles and a table from a skimming stone. “What about a tunnel?” her eyes were lit, alive and completely lost in the moment. We used sticks to make tiny tunnels, a network of criss crossing burrows. A pool for the fairies to swim was trickier, each scoop of water melted into the sand. She looked dismayed for a second, then an idea, ‘it could be a sludge lagoon for the fairies to glide in”.

We decorated the sludge lagoon with inzy pebbles round the sides, “so they know where the edges are”. Hope crackling, constant, lighting her own galaxy. I scooped her into my arms and we laughed, delighted with our fairy world and each other.

This page was last updated 14 Feb 2017