I discovered Andrea Gibson
a few years ago—
during covid, I think.
They captivated me
with their poems—
filled with such passion
over
and over
and over again.
They taught me
that poetry
could sound
like a human being
telling the truth.
Because they existed,
I found a way
to become
more myself.
The night has held motherhood, fear, loss, and finally peace. A reflection on the changing meaning of darkness across a lifetime.
Sometimes the answers we search for are not waiting to be invented, but quietly waiting to be recognised.
Becoming a doctoral student and actually accessing the library are, apparently, two entirely different things.
More and more frequently, I find myself noticing connections – between conversations, stories, and seemingly unrelated moments.
In trying to imagine an arts-based component for my doctoral research, I discovered that the metaphors guiding my thinking had quietly become the method itself.
My strongest childhood memories are not of places but of Sunday lunches: paprika-scented kitchens, opera drifting through open windows, and my father’s stories unfolding around the table.