A Poem by Sophia Isabella Murray

close up photo of wasp on yellow flower

I am slowly learning that I am worthy of love but I’m not for everyone &

the jackdaws built a nest in our chimney, unforgiving of our forgetfulness to steer them away with the warning wire blocking exits; the wasp stings regardless of a victim’s etiquette casually pollinating unintentionally as if their stripes weren’t enough of a fuck you to the bees; the birdsong of the cuckoo changes tune as the sun grows but she still lays her eggs in the nest of the ones who raised her; the anemones grow red where blood was spilled but the winds still blow them open to the weakest light; the piano in our kitchen never stays in tune but you still play it because she understands the way you move; the pebbles of doubt I wilfully store in my pockets to weigh me down, you take out one by one. 


Meet the Poet!

Sophia Isabella Murray is 10% witch, 10% poet, 10% hermit and 100% mother. She is also not very good at Mathematics so tries to use her words instead. She lives with her husband, children and her familiar – assuming the form of a small, angry terrier – in a house on the ley lines surrounded by the stormy Northumberland hills. Her first collection, The Alchemist’s Daughter, was released by Time is an Ocean Press and her first chapbook, Reasons Why We’re Angry, will be available from Querencia Press in 2023. You can view her work online at Instagram: @sim_poetry