Small acts of attention

On the small, the quiet and tenderly holding hope

It’s been a while.

As I continue to recover and slowly re-emerge into the world again, I’m still holding on to the little cocoon that has held me over these past few weeks. From the support and tender care that I’ve received from loved ones and friends to being in the company of the words of others and many books, this time has been very quiet, very small and something I am so incredibly grateful for.

Much of my work and writing focuses on the everyday and in a time when there is so much horror and violence in the world, I have found it hard to find the words to be honest. When the privilege of being alive is being able to hear the birdsong in the morning and not the bomb sirens or sound of drones, when the privilege of being alive, means having water, food and a home, and not fear for one’s life or mourning the loss of loved ones, I question how on earth can I sit here and write about the beauty of the everyday when right now, for many life is far from ordinary and the mundane pleasures that I notice are not accessible to so many. I question what I can do in my own small way, from writing to my MP to donating, from boycotting to witnessing, all small things I can do but it never seems enough. 

As I watched our children play with their cousins last week, I was moved by the sheer joy, beauty and tenderness of it all. Seeing them make memories together and roll around like little cubs, my thoughts turned towards others who have lost their children, friends, mothers, fathers, sisters, lovers and to those who are living in fear, pain and under violence.

I know I have to hold the hope for our children, for everyones children and try to show them the light in amongst it all. I know that the weight and responsibility of this world is to bear witness to it all and do whatever I can in my day to day to actively participate and engage with any small action I can take and also at the same time engage and appreciate small acts of attention. But again, it never feels enough. 

Recently, I was invited by the truly wonderful

Nelly Bryce

to write a piece for her gorgeous

Poetry Pals

newsletter. If you haven’t discovered it yet,

Poetry Pals

is a beautiful haven and a wonderful shining light here on substack and Nelly has created the most generous of communities and is an incredible cheerleader of poetry. It was an honour to write some words for her and share my favourite poem and also share a writing prompt.

I’m really late to the party for sharing my own repsonse to my prompt (see below) do make sure you head over to her beautiful space to see the truly beautiful and breathtaking responses and have a savour of all of her posts.

Small acts of attention 

Held up by a backbone of to dos
In erasure she finds joy
In the clean wipe of a kitchen table
In the fold and flick of a pile of clothes
In the the final kiss before lights out
In the last tick off her long list

Hers is a quiet world
One with short-term horizons and long nights
Yet it sparkles like dust particles at first light

In the creases of her dress
She carries hope and despair 
Pockets lined with emergency snacks
And treasure collected by small hands

The weight of awe is another load she bears
For it is in the small acts of attention 
Both monotonous and persistent 
Upon which her world is built

Those daily occurrences 
That are often overlooked
The way the light falls on a day in May
The smell of rain on hot ground
The care she takes to wipe away the tears
The strawberry scented kisses from tiny lips
The comfort of a warm cup of tea drunk in time
And the reassurance of unexpected laughter from the room next door

Hers is a quiet world
One with short-term horizons and long nights
Full of the essential yet often invisible
Full of the ordinary and generosity of the everyday

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Thank you so much for reading.