Shape of my days | part one

Exactly a month ago today I started a new daily practice (inspired by a poetry reading by Brian Bartlett from his new book of days) which combines both an evening examen prayer and a short piece of writing at the end of every day. It is helping me get out of the rut of not writing, and is also giving me a manageable and energizing way to reflect on my day. I’ve decided to occasionally share a few of these short pieces of (poetic) prose here, giving you some windows onto the shape of my days.

 

The trees have choreographed this display,

arranging their contrasting colours to best advantage,

and letting each leaf go in turn,

in time,

making the sidewalk a golden work of art.

I hope to approach today’s failures and triumphs with similar grace.

 

(Friday 17th October 2014)

 

 

I am bone-marrow tired tonight

after a day not my best.

I present my best to some

but less often to my dearest ones.

I am tired of myself,

my time-wasting habits,

my knee-jerk reactions.

Rain falls fresh outside

and now I will sleep towards

a fresh day

and its fresh starts.

 

(Tuesday 21st October 2014)

 

 

Your rainbow colours lie folded in a bag,

waiting to shine,

but you are nervous and self-conscious.

On the ride to school I suggest method acting,

channelling the rainbow.

You promptly adopt a light, impish tone and

once out of the car you turn

and say with a smile,

“Mummy, let your true colours shine!”

 

(Friday 31st October 2014)

 

 

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