Ready, Set, Grow

hoarfrosted grass

Where tears met the fog,

Your armour grew –

Negligee wrapping

Pain in more palatable form,

Deflecting eyes from

Bones brittle as death.

If you allow the Light

To strip you naked

(Sinews and seams

Bruised and bare)

Your genuine

Can grow.

Let Me In


Serrated plates,

rows of overlapping scales

went out with the disappearance of the dinosaurs,

died on a Medieval joust;

discard the armour.

Little one,

precious child,

let Me in.


A helmet to protect your head,

a shield defending tender heart,

chain-mail forged of heavy lead

so body won’t get torn apart.

Gauntlets of the finest steel,

boots so blows cannot get through;

but what on earth can form a seal

if what you’re fighting off