Wordsmith

Megan Young was a fiery spirit – vet, horse lover, poet, dreamer - who died of an unknown cancer the young age of 32. This book, lovingly compiled by her mother, tells the story of her life interspersed with photographs and poems, using letters sent to her family at various stages of her life. She addresses the reader: This is a gift of my soul. All that I have, all that I am is here. I am a scientist, an artist, a Wordsmith. This is the blood of the Wordsmith, it is pain. Understand me, Love me and if not, at least Believe me. These true words resonate throughout this remarkable volume. As a vet, she saw suffering and often had to administer death. She is realistic about her own demise, penetrating to the core of life, death and rebirth. It is a book to savour and makes the need to reflect on how life is expressing itself them in a unique way. Here is the initial very powerful poem, first written when she was 16, but chiselled since.

For a seagull

Dear God, as resting now I lie, I pray myself to reach the sky To fly to green hills yonder nigh, And swelling seas that scream thereby To crash on rocks from which I rose And blue, blue green that someone knows, Dear God, that in my time of rest My spirit wanders the West. And if I die before I wake, My country, then, my soul shall take.