• Ange Disbury


She isn’t absolute, clean cut, polished or separate from struggle

She is alongside reality, walking next to fear

She’s the determined roots of a flower in a coarse bramble-filled field

She is familiar with anger that points to what needs to be made right

Acquainted with pain, sadness and uncertainty, her eyes raw with tears

She isn’t the swooping rescuer that ‘switches off’ struggle or

the floodlight that suddenly obliterates the darkness

She’s the flickering candle, dripping with misshapen wax,

with light maybe enough to reveal one or two faltering next steps

She’s not a flighty wish, passive optimism or “positivity”

She’s gritty, solid yet fragile, scarred from the battle

Courage whisperer, vision musterer, worth affirmer

A presence that says “I don’t know the answer, but I’m here.”

- Ange Disbury -

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