‘Where full-formed words arise from sleep, peeled from the dreamy mind complete.’
– from Membrane of the Heart
Where language falters, there is breath. And silence. And rhythm.
It’s in those liminal spaces – the edges between thought and feeling, memory and moment – where the magic lives. Where words can be caught and clasped. Where stories echo before they are spoken.
I write from those in-between places. From the quiet just before a memory returns. From the weight of a hand, the ache of hunger, the pull of water. I believe stories are not just told, they are carried – in the body, in the breath and in silence.
Sometimes words arrive complete – as if pulled from an unseen place within – and at other times, they resist, or emerge half-formed and raw. I’ve learned that writing isn’t an act of perfection. It’s an evolving conversation – between the self, the past, and the page. My poems and stories are shaped slowly, and sometimes reshaped long after they’re shared. I find that process beautiful, ongoing and alive
‘Poets are the original storytellers.’
Jeanette Winterson
I don’t separate the two. Poetry and prose inform one another in my work, distilling and expanding. Together, I hope they deepen the telling.
My writing – whatever form it takes – tries to listen more than it declares. It holds space for contradiction: beauty alongside grief, hope beside fatigue. I am drawn to characters and voices who live at thresholds: between cultures, between histories, between the person they were and the one they’re becoming.
If you’ve arrived here, I hope you’ll linger. Read a line again. Listen for what’s left unsaid, and maybe find something familiar in the spaces between.
the wordcatcher poet 