Poems can be a doorway into another world. Each one, a simple arrangement of otherwise ordinary words, that together evoke presence, wonder, possibility. So here is an invitation to pause, let the words wash over you and glimpse the world they offer you…
It’s a growing collection, and we’d love to hear which ones resonate with you and why, and find out about your favourites. Here is an index of our Words of Wonder.
Hope is the belief that one hand reaching to another can eventually touch the moon, allowing the light to guide us through the night. by Nicholas Mazza In this week before COP26 starts, I found myself reflecting on hope, where to find it when it feels illusive, and on the role it plays in…
Balance is noticed most when almost failed of — in an elephant’s delicate wavering on her circus stool, for instance, or that moment when a ladder starts to tip but steadies back. There are, too, its mysterious departures. Hours after the dishes are washed and stacked, a metal bowl clangs to the floor, the weight…
And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun. It sees and knows everything. It hears the gnashing even…
just to fall back on the grass and be just to fall down on my bed and stay to be just a being on this earth my head objects: there’s a life to be lived a path to be followed a skill to be learned a friend to be seen a change to be made…
The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea you carry close to…
Release the harsh and pointed inner voice. it’s just a throwback to the past, and holds no truth about this moment. Let go of self-judgment, the old, learned ways of beating yourself up for each imagined inadequacy. Allow the dialogue within the mind to grow friendlier, and quiet. Shift out of inner criticism and life…
Like the little stream Making its way Through the mossy crevices I, too, quietly Turn clear and transparent. by Ryokan, translated by John Stevens Sitting by this little babbling stream in my mind’s eye takes me back to times when I used to cycle out of Glasgow and into the countryside, stopping and sitting…
“Which is bigger,” he asks me, “the ocean or sky,” and I want to tell him the heart, which even today has been practicing vastness, is learning to say yes in new languages, learning to stretch beyond the center, beyond the lips, learning to be more moon and less woman, to reflect light without owning…
I many times thought Peace had come When peace was far away, As wrecked men deem they sight the land When far at sea they stay. And struggle slacker, but to prove, As hopelessly as I, That many the fictitious shores Before the harbour lie. I had a fleeting moment when reflecting on the…