at the bend

holding

The river narrows here,
pressed between shale and root,
water folding in on itself
without complaint.

Silt lifts. Settles.
Cold travels under the skin
of each stone.

A reed leans,
then steadies.

The colour deepens.
Almost imperceptible.

Minnows hold still
as if listening.

The bank keeps its shape.
The air does not move.

A warmth enters —
low, unannounced —
threading the channel.

The river makes room
without widening.

No ripple breaks.
No branch divides.

Only the bend —
water turning
with what it holds

ㅤ

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For those who choose to go a little deeper
paid subscribers get
access to a Guided Noticing,
and occasional paid-only pieces,

Everything I publish publicly stays public.

This is about making space for slower work, and for people who want to stay close to how it’s made.

If you’ve been hovering, this is a good moment to step in.

I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.

Other prose and poems from me.

The Noise That Forgot Silence - Ep 4

Still, Nothing

Warmth, still

What Fear Whispered Before

Another night, later.

still close enough

Between the two of us

Idle

One Step Is Enough

The Sun Said Hop

She Arrives in the Pause

Not All Love Is Meant To Be Found.

🌈 When Rainbows Speak Back

Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.

If something moved in you — a silence that whispered — I’d love to hear it below, or in my DM’s.

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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery