These are words written during Patrick’s mother’s diagnosis of leukaemia and after her death—mostly under a tree on the mountain where he would speak with her. No perfectly crafted sonnets but the raw breath of grief—of trying to work out what was, is and will be. We write to escape ourselves and to find ourselves—these poems are a testament to a life and to love. We are alone in our grief but connected to others’ grieving and words are the threads stitching us together.
With an introduction by Patrick’s brother, Nicky Wire.
