Midwinter Toast 

Written by the wonderful Thea Gilmore not me.

What does it all matter?

All the angel hair and lights

This dark Midwinter

On the darkest winter night

And I’m sure I can hear you breathing

Even though the church bells call

I don’t believe in many things

But here’s my hymn to you all

Oh, hallelujah

Oh, I’m home

It’s been a crazy year

But through all the damage done

I have turned and I have learned to

Make next year the better one


Oh, hallelujah


Oh, I’m home

This won’t be hearts and flowers

More like tears and sweat and blood

And I could bend these words for hours

‘Til they sound the way they should

And some will lose and some will win

And that’s the way it’s always been

But all my friends and my wild and brave one

You’ll always be right here with me


Oh, hallelujah


Oh, I’m home


Oh, hallelujah


Oh, I’m home

The song


Skeleton Woman; complete

Those bones…..
The consequence of actions
Submerged by guilt, betrayal,
Moved by the currents of acceptance.

Caught by a hook,
Least expected, thrashing on the line,
Of a reluctant puppeteer.
Then so laid to rest.

Logically loved into order
Scrutinised by lamplight;
No more knee in the clavicle,
elbow in the throat.

And observe it’s been done.
Weep because you see it,
Sleep next to the skeleton,
With the lights on.

For the skeleton drinks pain;
Brackish waters which choked deliverance,
Until the confessions of a dreamer.

Whilst unconscious, beat the drum
To the shaping of a landscape beyond the physical
Drawn in contours around the mortal.

And awaken
Entwined and whole,
Body and soul.

Skeleton Woman – an Inuit myth

She had done something of which her father disapproved.

He had dragged her to the cliffs and thrown her over and into the sea. There, the fish ate her flesh away and plucked out her eyes. As she lay under the sea, her skeleton turned over and over in the currents.

One day a fisherman came fishing. He had drifted far from his home place and did not know that the local fisherman stayed away, saying this inlet was haunted.

The fisherman’s hook drifted down through the water, and caught in the bones of Skeleton Woman’s rib cage. The fisherman thought, “Oh, now I’ve really got a big one! Now I really have one!” In his mind he was thinking of how many people this great fish would feed, how long it would last, how long he might be free from the chore of hunting.

And as he struggled with this great weight on the end of the hook, the sea was stirred to a thrashing froth, and his kayak bucked and shook, for she who was beneath struggled to disentangle herself. The more she struggled, the more she tangled in the line. No matter what she did, she was inexorably dragged upward, tugged up by the bones of her own ribs.

The hunter had turned to scoop up his net, so he did not see her bald head rise above the waves, he did not see the little coral creatures glinting in the orbs of her skull, he did not see the crustaceans on her old ivory teeth. When he turned back with his net, her entire body, such as it was, had come to the surface and was hanging from the tip of his kayak by her long front teeth.

The fisherman cried out and his heart fell into his knees. His eyes hid in terror on the back of his head, and his ears blazed bright red. He screamed, knocked her off the prow with his oar and began paddling like a demon toward shoreline.

Not realising she was tangled in his line, he was frightened all the more when she appeared to stand upon her toes while chasing him all the way to shore. No matter which way he moved his kayak, she stayed right behind. Her breath rolled over the water in clouds of steam, and her arms flailed out as though to snatch him down into the depths.

He wailed as he ran aground.

In one leap he was out of his kayak, clutching his fishing stick and running. Behind, the coral white corpse of skeleton woman, still snagged in the fishing line, clattered along right after him. Over the rocks he ran, and she followed. Over the frozen tundra he ran, and she kept right up. Over the meat laid out to dry he ran, cracking it to pieces as his mukluks bore down.

Throughout it all she kept right up, in fact, she grabbed some of the frozen fish as she was dragged behind. This she began to eat, for she had not gorged in a long, long time.

Finally, the man reached his snowhouse and dived right into the tunnel. On his hands and knees he scrabbled his way into the interior. Panting and sobbing he lay there in the dark, his heart a drum, a mighty drum. Safe at last, oh so safe, yes, safe thank the Gods, Raven, yes, thank Raven, yes, and all bountiful Sedna, safe… at…last.

But when he lit his whale oil lamp, there she – it – lay in a tumble upon his snow floor, one heel over her shoulder, one knee inside her rib cage, one foot over her elbow. He could not say later what it was, perhaps the firelight softened her features, or the fact that he was a lonely man… but a feeling of some kindness came into his breathing, and slowly he reached out his grimy hands and using words softly like a mother to child, began to untangle her from the fishing line.

First he untangled the toes, then the ankles. On and on he worked into the night, until dressing her in furs to keep her warm, Skeleton Woman’s bones were all in the order a human’s should be.

He felt into his leather cuffs for his flint and used some of his hair to light a little more fire. He gazed at her from time to time as he oiled the precious wood of his fishing stick and rewound the gut line. She wrapped in the furs uttered not a word; she did not dare, lest this hunter take her out and throw her down to the rocks and break her bones to pieces utterly.

The man became drowsy, slid under his sleeping skins, and soon was dreaming. As he slept a tear escaped from the dreamer’s eye.

Skeleton Woman saw the tear glisten in the firelight. She tinkled and clanked and crawled over to the sleeping man and put her mouth to his tear. The single tear was like a river and she drank and drank and drank until her long thirst was quenched.

While lying beside him, she reached inside the sleeping man and took out his heart, the mighty drum. She sat up and banged on both sides of it: Boom Boom.

As she drummed, she began to sing out. And the more she sang, the more her body filled out with flesh. She sang for hair, eyes and hands. She sang the divide between her legs, and breasts.

When she was all done, she also sang the sleeping man’s clothes off and crept into his bed with him, skin against skin.

She returned the great drum, his heart, to his body, and that is how they awakened, wrapped one around the other, tangled from their night, in another way now, a good and lasting way.