( a poem for when the world feels hard ) Swear to me, please swear, you won’t let your heart harden You won’t allow fears of others to taint your view of the world There is a rhetoric, of unwelcomeness and divisiveness Which only hurts people even more, you, me, all of us I only ask you to swear ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
The Walk Home
( a poem for the mothers who smile at the school gate ) It doesn’t get easier; they tell you it does, and they told me too. But it doesn’t. Not when you’re handing them over to a system you didn’t choose, watching them hang their tiny little coats on tiny pegs, wondering if their hearts hurt the ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
Searching
( a poem for when you miss who you were ) You can spend your whole life searching Or, you can bring yourself back to the here and now And realise that you’re wasting so much time Searching You’re looking for answers Reaching for the next best thing Distracting yourself Yet you’ll never find what ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
No Weight in My Lap
( a poem for when you love them so much it hurts ) No weight in my lap equals the weight of my own babies. It’s now that I see it. Now, I see they are no longer small. It’s been gorgeous. In every sense, every scent. I have adored it all, those babies, my babies, now boys. I can still pick them ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
5 and 7 Is Equally Beautiful
( a poem for seeing this age as clearly as the last ) 5 and 7 is equally beautiful!It’s my mind that tells me it’s notPerhaps because I documented more back then?I wrote. I mused.I lingered a little longer at the touch of their heads and the tips of their noseYet now is equally beautiful.They are ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
My Love, How Can I Say This?
( a poem for the day someone else starts guiding them too ) My love, how can I say this? You are perfect as a baby And you’re even more perfect now I try, believe me, I try So hard To be the best for you To love and guide you And now, someone else Will do this too And my heart shatters at the ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
As I Sit Here at the Kitchen Table
( a poem for when they’re growing too fast ) As I sit here at the kitchen tableHe plays in the sandpit outsideOne has already flownA baby, now a boyIn school five days per weekAnd I sit here mullingWondering if there’s anything I can do to slow itThe growth, the changesThey happen all of a ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
What It Is To Miss You
( the shortest love poem I know ) What it is to miss you I guess that means I love you. Sophie More poems for this feeling: visit the Poem Library. ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
Moments of a Whole Life
( a poem for someone you still wish were here ) I wish you were still here, you knowAll those years agoIt seems an eternity nowAnd so, time just goesThough I see you often in my mindNow and then, back againI say, and you slink back in. You doLike a snake to a nest. You areIt’s that character, ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
Empty Chair at Dusk
( a haiku for an empty chair ) Empty chair at duskYour laughter echoes no moreInstead, pure, wretched heartache fills the empty void Sophie More poems for this feeling: visit the Poem Library. ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
My Sacred Dance
( a poem for those exquisite slow dances with a sleeping child ) I found my sacred dance Here on the kitchen floor Your warmth, weighing heavy now Yet, still oh so light Little fingers envelope rough hands Wisps of hair tickle my nose These dances of ours I wonder Could they last forever? I’d do ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
Like the Moon
( a very short poem about missing someone ) I miss you, I miss you I dolike the moonmisses darkness in the depths of winter through. Sophie More poems for this feeling: visit the Poem Library. ...
If this spoke to you
The Sunday Letter
Coming soon: a poem, a gentle practice and one mother's voice, every Sunday morning. Until then, a new poem arrives on Instagram each week.
Your host
Hello, I'm Sophie
Poet, mother of two boys, and the one who lights the candles here. This space belongs to all of us. Read our story
