Spring bouquets, random flowers plucked and trimmed
tucked in glass vases half full, tap water warnings of pharma cocktails
only traces though, races through green veins, photosynthesis at work
the violet blooms erupt from tight buds, scarlet on dove white
sun dazzled heads slowly droop, and hang, like empty withdrawal symptoms
for a moment they were brilliant, alive
In this town women walk at night—
Alone. The river glows with Van Gogh’s black blue hues
Twinkling on ripples of a star kissed sky
I cannot imagine locking myself away
From the night air that feels like freedom must taste
In the mouths of men. I cannot
Imagine closing my eyes to the midnight bells
That mark the deepest hour of night
A new day, draped in night’s cape
Wrap my bare shoulders, not with angry hands
Or tongues that lash foul thoughts to my skin
But wrap them in the black veil you mistook as your own
And I will claim the night with my high-heeled monument
Erected by monthly blood-spilled miscarriages
Of justice. In this town women walk at night—
Alone.
Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones. Hold them tight this Christmas and cherish the small moments. Sometimes they pass by unnoticed, but these quiet happenings feed the soul.
Visiting the city of Manchester is a visual treat for lovers of historic buildings. The blend of new and old architecture perfectly juxtaposes the modern age with days gone by. Yet as impressive as some of the new builds are, I am drawn to the timeless beauty of the dreamy, modern take on Gothic architecture of the Beyer Building located on the University of Manchester’s quad, which has stood tall for over a century.
The ivy covered walls and grand entrances harken to an age of firsts: the world’s first industrialized metropolis, the world’s first railway line, one of the world’s first stored-program computers (“Baby”), one of the first suffragettes and law graduates (Christabel Pankhurst), one of the first female medical graduates (Catherine Chisholm), and so many more. Manchester is a historic city beautifully preserved in the midst of a lively, modern metropolis. I can’t wait to return for another stroll among the sleeping giants that housed England’s industrialized and feminist past.
Millions of people around the world bid farewell to Queen Elizabeth II watching the historic funeral in the comfort of their homes. Some shed a tear, others shared poignant stories of her life, but all who watched witnessed the passing of a monarch who reigned far longer than any could have imagined when she was crowned at just 26 years old. ‘Thank you for your service,’ many proclaimed as her coffin passed them by after they stood on the streets for hours overnight waiting for a mere glimpse of her funeral procession. Being able to watch all this as it happened live in central London from the comfort of my warm bed, I was amazed at the outpouring of love and respect for the queen by her subjects young and old. At nearly a hundred years old she was still mourned, what a lovely sentiment. May we all live to such a privileged age and be missed when we finally pass. RIP dear Lizzy, and may your progeny learn from your grace.
It’s not yet March, but spring has already bloomed across London.
DAY FIVE: With COVID and lockdown and uncertainty adding stress to daily life, I’m grateful to live in a walkable city with beautiful parks to stroll through and de-stress.
One thing lockdown has given me is the time to explore my local neighbourhood. This lovely trail is my latest discovery. Walking beneath the green canopy feels ten degrees cooler than on pavement— a perk for hot summer days. Who knew there was an enchanted forest just off Finchley Road?
Mary Lynn Bracht 