http://slow.writerscafe.org/RuthCalderMurphy The original writings of author RuthCalderMurphy en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775466998 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 ImmigrantI’m an immigrantto Earth.I’m not sure where I come from But I’m sure I’m not from here.Somewhere,somehow,some time before my birth,I was squeezed into this bodyand frankly, ever since I’ve been trying to make senseof what on earth - or somewhere -is going on;wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1270136/ A Murder of CrowsMy breath does the dance of death on frosty air,cools like the corpse of Summer thereand drifts, melancholy,to nothing.A murder of crowscooks scandal in skeletal treesand dusk sulks on the chilly breeze,stealing sightand bringing black nighton the back of ghostly grey.I bury my brea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1270121/  EveIt’s strange when thedays are devoured by the dark so soon after the golden glory of summer. Thelong, shadow-striped evenings, when we were wrapped in warmth, are still withinfingertip touch when the Equinox locks them away and carries us into coldOctober. It sho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1269622/ The ChapelThere’s a chapel across the meadow - in a copse on the edge of the woods -where the hymns are sung by blackbirdsand the pews are fallen logs.The light is coloured by seasons - Spring green to Autumn red -the Winter makes marble statuesand berries are wine and bread.The flight of the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1269618/ The WondererThis is the Wonderer’s way,the Wanderer’s way,the journey of a thousand questions,each with a thousand more.This is the Socrates way,the way of undoing,of stripping away.This is the Solitude way,the thunder of infinite questionsechoing silent in the eternal void.This is the D.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1269617/ The DanceWe dance with Death.Every dayfrom conceptionto cremation -or whatever other path to bodily annihilation -we dance with Death.She whirls us,gasping,laughing,giddied and gigglingto the adrenalin heights of dangerand wraps us soft in swaddling armsat night...where visions of her,of that sleep .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1269614/ PsychiatristYou pick at my brainlike tapas...Like tapestry,embroidery,un-picking me,You revelin my unravellingand reveal glitchesin my stitches.You Freud my friendships and Jung my youth,Klein my inclines and my audacious two-facesand haul my callings over the coalsof your Beck.You psychology me,tri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RuthCalderMurphy/1269612/