{ "componentChunkName": "component---src-templates-post-js", "path": "/literature/poetry/sophrosyne/", "result": {"data":{"post":{"id":"cG9zdDo2Njc=","excerpt":"

I saw a word and fell in love /
\nThinking, that is me, I’ve found /
\nIt, the thing to define me

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I saw a word and fell in love
Thinking, that is me, I’ve found
It, the thing to define me
Felt it wrap itself around my wrists,
Coil through my hair, weave into my lungs
And crawl its way into my veins until
I had become the word and carried
My shoulders, bent by its letters
How was I so wrong? The time
I spent becoming was in all the
Wrong directions –
I didn’t sound half as lovely as
I thought I looked

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\n\n \n \"Bealtaine\n \n
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Shaw Chard

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\n \n @shawchard\n
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Shaw Chard is a Canadian artist who has been writing on and off for as long as she can remember. Her inspiration is derived mostly from the people and connections in her life. She feels grateful to the people in her life and especially to her late mother, who passed in 2016, who will always represent a guiding light to her. She is currently based in Belfast.

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","title":"Sophrosyne","date":"February 24, 2021","issue_number":{"issueNumber":"Issue 1"},"featuredImage":null},"previous":{"uri":"/literature/poetry/the-song-of-selection/","title":"The Song of Selection"},"next":{"uri":"/literature/poetry/home-fires/","title":"Home Fires"}},"pageContext":{"id":"cG9zdDo2Njc=","previousPostId":"cG9zdDo2NzA=","nextPostId":"cG9zdDo2NjQ="}}, "staticQueryHashes": ["3240029854","848497233"]}