Sarah-Anne Raynham

She was exposed
to confidence alone
avoiding the striding
terror of a ninety-year old
She wanted storms
pelting her skin
disturbing her soul
The sounds eased
and crept into her heart

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Sarah-Anne Raynham

Story of my life in five minutes

when I was little
the mountain was my cloak
as I grew bigger I did not need it anymore

I was solid
offering my sides to climbers
They traversed me but sometimes they fell and died

It hurt me so much that I made a rule
beware of me, the mountain
and its cloak

Sarah-Anne Raynham

Rooting

The writing has started
Every word locates me in Africa
Soil, fire, dance, trance
Worldwide mystical spaces.

Every word locates me in Africa
Mountains echo
Worldwide mystical spaces
Pure icy sounds.

Mountains echo
Something hurts in my head
Pure icy sounds
Africa and the East?

Something hurts in my head
Soil, fire, dance, trance
Africa and the East?
The writing has started.