Sara Stegen is a Dutch poet, equity advocate, and non-fiction author who writes about family, neurodivergence, and the landscape she lives in. She has published in Spelt, Ranchlands Review, The Brussels Review. Sara has an MA in English from the University of Groningen and is a 2022 Rural Writing Institute alumnus run by best-selling authors Kathryn Aalto (Writing Wild) and James Rebanks (The Place of Tides). Home is a boulder-clay ridge in the northern Netherlands where her bike shed contains eight bicycles. Sara works for Research Centre Art&Society and is working on her first poetry collection and memoir about apples and autism.

Colour up the days

Blossom after winter
colours spring up with colours
the pastels are the first
and the neons
fresh leaves fresh petals
sent flying on the wind
nature’s confetti
the spring’s wedding
the harsh blue skies
manure on the wind
the scent of flowers and shit
you started colouring
at green day-care
and you love it there
the farm the horses and the donkeys
the geese the chickens
the vegetable garden patch
we grieve
for the woman that you were
springs shows up
and showers us
with pink confetti
while you colour up the days

Walking back

Learning to walk is a balancing act
kids master it falling down
bottom hits first
falling down getting up
wobbly steps knees unbent
robot stiff concentration
a human hand needed for balance
guidance
until the miracle steps in
suddenly they know
they have the knack
from stepping carefully
step by step
to stepping out into the world
like they own the place

For years we do not think
about the steps we take
we walk we walk we walk
out into the world
up stairs up hills and down
through corridors and hallways
slow saunters runs brisk-paced walks
holding our lover’s or our children’s hands
we walk without thinking
in the world
drinking it all in

With age we become stiff
walk slower laborious
need canes mobility aids
walking racks and scooters
our knees don’t bend as readily
corridors become Himalayan mountain ranges
to be traversed to get to our front doors
and much yearned for couches
letting go sitting down falling down
exhaling ‘hey, hey, hey’

All these years of walking
and then we’re back
to square one
one wonders
what was the point in learning?