The Open Frame
A beautiful day in Belfast
my body can taste the life
of plants and rivers
my tears are mine not yours
quilts are our ancestors
I gather these pebbles
and remember my place.
She curls up inside her coat
under Belfast's autumnal sky
the leaves fall asleep and so do I
I am grateful for connection
with once strangers.
Wordlessly good
emotional upheaval
a matter of life and death
the open frame of poetry.
This group poem was written by participants of IPTN's Healing Through Poetry
Conference '19 held in the Wellington Hotel, Belfast.
