Another of my loves, though one I have neglected often, is poetry. I was listening to and reading Parliament Hill Fields by Sylvia Plath just now on the Poetry Archive
She seems to be a very exact person, in the way she speaks and the way she writes, each word is there because she means it to be, there is no carelessness their choice. She expresses some emotions I have felt since Amy's death and especially as I have recovered - that sense of guilt as you turn back towards the world, continue to live, realise that while you have been grieving the world has continued to turn. It is a poem very rooted in place but also in person and in that juxtaposition where a person and their perception of place collide and come together to form an experience.