Jo Dolby

Latest

Jan 31

Wreckage

I saw it coming.
In that moment of slow motion as it got closer,
I had only seconds for preventions and protections.

I checked my seatbelt was clicked into place.
I slammed on the brakes, I tensed up and I braced,
Breath bated I waited and then it came.

It collided into my side.
Glass shattering metal clattering my body taking a battering,
Then it went quiet.

I realised as I breathed in relief I’m alive,
That despite all I’d done to ensure I’d survive,
The crash had still come and the damage was done.

Some things can’t be won, undone or outrun,
No matter how much you’ve overcome.
They’ll find you and hide you and one day they’ll try to
Make you the wreckage you crawled out from.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Jan 28

Bread

I see you.
First to arrive, last to leave.
You start in the dark, while the world still sleeps.
Your hands, sore from mixing, kneading, shaping, baking.

I see it.
The bread you make, broken over a table.
The central element, a family staple.
Torn and toasted, sliced and fried.
Smothered in butter, it satisfies.

Don’t forget.
It’s ok, to take from the table you bake for.
To enjoy the fruits of your labour.
To lay down that apron, to say what you came for.
Take, tear, receive.
This is your feast to eat.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Jan 14

I think the angry, rap-metal loving skater girl I used to be in my teenage years would love this one! It was so cathartic to write and record – there’s something so powerful about speaking out words that acknowledge experiences or people that may have tried to silence or gaslight me in the past.

This is my voice
And I know what it’s like to lose it
So I choose to use it I refuse to diffuse it and you will listen.

Cause you can’t buy my silence
And I won’t be compliant won’t be a liar.
I won’t make tweaks to what I’ve said I’ll speak
You can’t edit or take credit for this testimony.

This is my voice
And I know what it’s like to lose it
So I choose to use it I refuse to diffuse it and you will listen.

I bet you’ll make threats but what you shouldn’t forget
Is that truth can’t be changed rearranged or reset.
You say hold back don’t attack think of the impact
Well fuck that.

This is my voice
And I know what it’s like to lose it
So I choose to use it I refuse to diffuse it and you will listen.

And I won’t just write these words down, oh no…

I’ll speak them out I’ll shout them loud
I’ll drown you out and I’ll do it proud
Won’t stop it won’t drop it till you’re shutdown.

This is my voice
And I know what it’s like to lose it
So I choose to use it I refuse to diffuse it and you will listen.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Jan 14

Nomad Podcast

As a longtime Nomad Podcast fan aka ‘beloved listener’, it was a great privilege to have this great conversation with Azariah France-Williams for the podcast. The topic was leaders within faith settings who deconstruct, or go through a big faith shift. Azariah and I share our stories with one another, commenting on how the faith shifts we’ve experienced have impacted us, and the roles we do now. It’s a very personal conversation as I share parts of my story I’ve not shared publicly before, but it felt important to be honest about the journey I’ve travelled. You can listen below, and you can find out more about the Nomad Podcast here.

0
comments

Posted in Thoughts Faith Deconstruction Nomad Nomad Podcast thoughts

Jan 08

Dessert Spoon

Sometimes you write a poem that is so clearly made to be spoken rather than written, and loads of my poems are like that. So I’m trying something slightly new with this one. It’s called Dessert Spoon, and you can hear me speak it by watching the video, or if you prefer you can read the words below.

I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
It’s a simple act of resistance,
An insistence of non-compliance and defiance,
A little piece of order against the eating disorder.

I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
It is a prayer I pray, a declaration I make,
A belief that one day,
This will end and as you mend we will again share a decadent pudding with friends.

I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
I know you’ll relearn that it’s ok to yearn,
To stuff your face, to take up space,
To say what you want, to claim your place,
To be full to bursting, to give yourself grace.

I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
Otherwise it reminds me of when someone dies,
One less fork, one less knife, one less life.
But you’re still alive and you’re still inside,
I know because I see it sometimes.

I still include a dessert spoon when I lay your place at the table.
I want to show you, want you to know that I still hold hope.
That this doesn’t define us but I think it could refine and align us.
That however much it aches and however long it takes I will wait,
That if you choose it and fight your way through this, recovery awaits.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry spoken word

Jan 02

Tealight

It doesn’t cost much.
It won’t last long.
Lost in a drawer for years,
It might not even light.

But it could be enough,
To spark a flame,
To light up the darkness,
To burn the healing oil.

So strike the match,
Rub the sticks,
Flick the switch,
Ignite an inferno.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Nov 30

Hard Wired

Cut the head off a flower, and it will grow back.
Tear a hole in the ozone, and it can close up.
Graze your skin, and it will knit itself together.

Healing is hard wired into the fabric of the universe.
So it is hard wired in you too.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Nov 02

Shalom / Fragmented

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is F02E7A79-FD99-4127-9946-7EEB4CB1B4C8-2-819x1024.jpg

Shalom

Is there anything more attractive,
Than a person fully alive?
Completely free.
Totally whole.

The one who has done the work,
Overcome adversity, beat the odds,
Risen from the ashes.

Healing is contagious.
It catches, ripples, sparks,
Lighting fires that lead the way to Shalom.

This is what it means to live your best life,
Not to be free of hardship,
But to be travelling the path to wholeness,
Taking others with you.

Fragmented

Is there anything less attractive,
Than a person barely alive?
Completely bound.
Totally fragmented.

The one who refuses to do the work,
Beaten by adversity, obeying the odds,
Choked by the ashes.

Disease can be contagious.
It catches, spreads, sparks,
Lighting fires that destroy the path to Shalom.

This is what it means to miss your best life,
To be bitter about your hardship,
To walk away from the path to wholeness,
Taking others with you.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Jul 02

Screwed Up

I said,
It’s like a screwed up ball of paper.
Crinkled, creased, damaged and torn.
If you unfurled it, flattened it, ironed it.
It would still bear the marks of the damage.
It would still be unusable, irreparable, defective.
It would be better to find a new blank page,
To begin again.

She said,
I prefer a screwed up piece of paper to a blank page.
Every line tells a story, every tear honours a scar.
Every crease maps a journey, every mark speaks a truth.
A blank page is uninteresting, without form or pattern.
Voiceless, shapeless, plain.
Screwed up paper shows it can be reformed, reshaped, remade.
You can still be screwed up, and begin again.

0
comments

Posted in Poetry poetry

Jun 02

Rethinking the Bible: A Progressive Perspective

How can we see the bible through a progressive lens? For many of us who have deconstructed faith, or seen the bible used to harm or control, how can we reimagine our relationship with it? For this talk given at Oasis Church Bath, I explore the purpose and place of the bible in our lives.