The Bioluminescence of the Soul

July 26, 2026 / Chloe Kyle / 8 Comments

In the darkest depths of the ocean,

Well below where the sun’s brilliance can reach,

All is doomed to an icy cold stygian underworld.

Yet, a plethora of microscopic plankton, tiny crustaceans and fish,

Have evolved to glow unfathomably bright

When their waters are distorted and disturbed.

The flick of a whale shark’s tail can trigger

Hundreds of minuscule cells, vampire squid and algae

To glow and glitter like a starlit sky.

At times I know you too swim in frigid dark waters,

Oppressed by a nagging overwhelming grief,

Encircled by predatory shivers of fear,

Fronds of anger or misplaced joy distorting your view.

Your brine is murky and sullied

With age-old untrue concepts and thoughts,

Slinking around you still.

Their slimy, rotting tendrils

Polluting your ocean, entrapping your feet.

And yet, a small movement,

A mere shift in attention to Grace deep within,

Sparks a glimmer of divinity that multiplies and expands,

Throughout all cells, so illuminating the dark.

Now you see the truth of it,

How you’ve chosen to swim in the dark channels of the mind,

Buffeted aimlessly by winds and whims of society,

Tossed around by currents of pleasure and pain.

And are being gifted a whole different way of being.

As plankton have evolved to shine to escape predators,

Your own tenebrous forces are your catalyst for change,

Encouraging incessantly this return to Grace.

Here, you learn to ride waves of truth and mercy,

Submit only to trade winds of unconditional love,

And uncover your essence, the bioluminescence of the soul.

For you are designed to shine your truth,

To glimmer, glitter and glow with divinity

And leave a trail of sea sparkle in your wake.

If you enjoy my poetry, a collection can be found in The Remembering, a Rosary of Light available on Amazon and Goodreads.

How are you?

July 2, 2026 / Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments

When I ask how you are,

I’m not looking for a paltry “fine”,

Or “good, how are you?”

I want to know of your depth and dimension,

Your inner dance between Grace and darkness,

And which, today, is taking the lead.

I’m curious if light is flooding your shadows,

If joy has succeeded in her quest to seep in through the cracks

Of that barricade you steadfastly built around your heart,

If your worth is intact or if it has plummeted once more,

Attached to the views of your lover, your boss,

Or the nonsensical lure of social media.

I’m asking if grief has visited again,

And if you welcomed her in this time

And made her warm cocoa and stroked her hair

As you listened to her woes and watched her burdens lift.

I want to know if you unlocked that cupboard you hid shame in

And led her out into the light to finally glimpse her smile.

As you tell me how you lost your cool with your son,

Or with that driver who cut you off,

I see all the small but mighty acts of courage and Grace,

Returning the sparkle to your eyes,

The hum of vivacity to your cells,

The power of your essence to your worth.

I hear Grace winning the affection of your shadows,

See joy cracking through the stone wall around your heart,

Through the rueful smile on your face,

The merry tinkle of your laughter.

When I ask how you are, tell me your hurts,

I’m listening.

I’m here to remind you

That you may trip and you may fall,

And herein will find your grit, your growth.

For in your rising, Grace is winning over darkness,

And you are mastering the art of this dance of life,

Allowing your true self to finally take the lead.

Wintering

February 25, 2026February 25, 2026 / Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments

Torrents of rain beat down incessantly.

Day after day, week after week

Thick grey clouds unburden their load.

And yet more cumulonimbus roll in,

Forming a never-ending deluge,

Under a dense, dark, menacing sky.

Winter walks are sodden underfoot,

Woodland paths transformed into gushing gullies,

Coursing through sticky, saturated Sussex clay.

Rivulets of rain stream down my cheeks, neck.

My wellies squelch, slip and slide,

Striving for purchase on shifting ground.

I feel the density, the pressure within too,

Like I’m wrapped in a tight cocoon

Of thick, sticky, congealed threads.

They press me down, suffocate my essence.

A deep ache permeates the cells of my bones,

A weariness pervading my being.

Each time I try and force myself through

With well-thought-out strategies,

I’m met with a dark deluge of resistance.

Today I have no fight left.

I call in to Grace,

To the flickering candle of Divinity within.

Here in the depths of my being,

A warm glow of Love abides.

When I rest here,

Radiant beams course through my cells,

Soften my body, lighten my load

And illuminate what blinds and binds me.

These strings of protection enveloping me,

The desire to meet expectations of others,

To serve and please when my body says no,

Are no longer needed.

Deep in this impenetrable darkness,

Lies a growing trust that I hold the light.

Homecoming is a stripping off,

Of wet skins and clay-caked boots,

A hosing down of muddy paws,

A continuous cycle of scrubbing away

The dirt that clings tenaciously—

A grapple with an impossibly messy task.

With Grace, homecoming becomes

A shedding of skins, of identities,

A falling away of the silken threads,

Of needs to improve and desires to become,

A laying down of effort,

An opening into Love within.

As snowdrops sprout in muddied ground,

Golden crocuses rise and daffodils bud

To the merry chirp of wren, robin and song thrush,

Joy bubbles up.

A sense of grace and flow sing through my being.

Such is the alchemy of wintering.

A sacred reclamation of Divinity within.

A Carpet of Pearls and Treasures

October 30, 2025 / Chloe Kyle / 6 Comments

The oak rains down her acorns and leaves

In a cascade of rustles and plunks,

Layering the woodland floor in an opulent carpet

Of crunch and colour.

Trees dressed in outstanding autumn finery,

Are shedding orange, green, yellow, copper leaves,

In a fluttering dance of startling hues.

It’s a mast year of exceptional abundance,

And the trees are in the process of a magnificent unrobing.

Months of bright sunshine and bountiful rain

Bring forth this sumptuous celebration of nature.

I feel a sense of enormity too, an overwhelming fullness,

A resounding call from Grace to let go.

The vestige of head trauma haunts my left side,

Inflammation and pain flaring again.

Grief wells up, the loss of a friend,

The shifting tides of being a mother, wife, daughter,

A bewilderment of how to move forward.

The oak’s glorious unrobing looks effortless,

A wonderful retreat to her core within her bark.

On the woodland floor lies a splendid banquet,

Nourishing squirrels, robins, beetles and the tree itself.

I, however, have a pillar of resistance inside,

A pressing need to release a multitude of age-old beliefs.

Subconscious patterns hold me fast,

causing me to wallow, distract, or seek outward,

For answers, relief, direction.

I reach deep into the beloved source within,

And see my leaves of creation from all angles,

The red tinge of despondency, bronze glow of misspent hope,

The headstrong tendencies behind them,

And the golden beam of divinity that runs through all.

A kaleidoscope of revelations lights up within,

A sacred gift that ushers such yearned-for release.

I too am laying a carpet of pearls and treasures,

A path of Grace to walk me home.

The Flight of the Blackbird

June 14, 2025 / Chloe Kyle / 8 Comments

Claws entangled in webbing,

Wings and head strain against a crisscross of string.

A dog paws and pounces in play towards its prey.

The blackbird careens desperately,

Gold ringed eyes wide with dismay.

Recently tempted by juicy strawberries,

Now he’s helplessly caught in their net.

Hands reach in to hold and untangle,

While his yellow beak pecks in defence

To escape the restraint,

Only to dive into the net once more.

Again, hands hold, scissors snip at binding,

A wing is set free and he bursts away,

Still anchored by the net trailing behind him.

I too am stuck in a net,

A complex tangle of my mind’s creation.

Lured in by the desire to be

a great mother, teacher, writer, homemaker,

I’m bound by the fear of not meeting the needs of others,

Threatened and toyed with by illusions of being better,

Caught up in demands of society.

In chanting my mantra

I’m held by the hands of Grace within,

Who deftly loosens the cords that hold me.

Time and again I rail against them,

Unmoored without the age-old concepts

That have held me fast for so long,

Taken in once more by false whisperings of the world.

This time two hands hold the blackbird,

Another cuts away at the twine that binds him.

He’s momentarily still, surrendered to the process,

Until, finally untangled, the hands open.

He flies up over the oxeye daisies, meadow peas and clover,

Skimming the flower-filled field and

Soaring into the clear blue sky beyond.

Today as I tune in to Grace,

I lean into His hands and resist

The habit to escape to my mind’s desire.

Instead, I ask His Will for me, and hear

“Be still and know that you are God”.

My liberation depends on this belief,

On my trust in His skill to break the bonds that bind me.

Days later, again a blackbird

Is trapped in the net.

Claws ensnared, webbing overhead,

Dog teasing him playfully.

Hands reach in to untangle.

He stills and offers no resistance.

Moments later, he’s free once more.

Such is the play between entrapment and emancipation.

With practice, the balance between

The lure of the old snares

And the trust, belief and movement into Grace begin to tip.

His hands gently open and I am set free

To glide up and over the roses and thorns of mind’s creation

And soar into the boundless blue sky of Grace within.

Comments welcome

The Grace of the Hare

May 14, 2025 / Chloe Kyle / 4 Comments

She sits aback a hazel tree in serene repose

Exuding a quiet, gentle grace.

Her soft, tawny fur melds into bark and earth,

Long black-tipped velvet ears upstanding, nose twitching,

Two oval amber eyes ever alert to the surrounds,

For to lapse in attention is to invite peril.

Grass snakes weave through the lush meadow,

Hawks and kestrels scour the earth from above,

Foxes, weasels and stoats prowl the fields,

All dangers of the natural world

On the hunt for prey.

Speed and awareness are her antidotes, her gifts.

In the blink of an eye, she tears through the grass

Joining a drove to race and chase,

Twisting, turning and leaping around each other

Like fallen blossoms swept up in a spring breeze.

Gambolling and pirouetting with fluid grace,

In an instant, she melts into the landscape once more.

Daily I sit in humble reverence

Amidst the highs and lows of life’s harshness,

Practice receiving the wrath of a mother or loss of a friend

With due respect, yet remember to effortlessly pivot

To the eye of Grace and play here in His sacred field,

Where Love is all and all is Love.

Comments and insights welcome

Rewilding into Grace

October 15, 2024 / Chloe Kyle / 5 Comments

There’s something about her, this magical pond,

Deep in the heart of acres of rewilded land,

Where the farm’s fences have been pulled down,

Penned-in animals are no more,

Once-ploughed fields left fallow,

Taken over by brambles, dog-rose and sallow.

Now Longhorn cattle are free to roam,

Droves of Tamworth pigs rootle the ground and

Herds of wild Exmoor ponies run free,

All tending the grass, the bushes, the earth.

Within this magnificent splendour of nature,

The pond invites me into her autumnal embrace.

I glide with mallards, bask with moor hens,

The ice of the water chilling deep into my cells.

The branch of an oak extends over us like a graceful arm,

Adorned in leaves tinged with orange, yellow and brown,

Gifting acorns in gentle plops, rippling the still reflection.

Squirrels scamper by our side, a robin hops, a redwing watches.

A peregrine falcon soars in the sky above,

Where gathering clouds roll in to drop their burdens.

From deep within, I too am replete with harvest.

The depth of Grace from this year’s reaping,

Has given space for so much grief to surface.

The grit, the muck and mire of life’s daily toil,

Past and present, float like jetsam to my attention,

Where upwelling Love recognises the gifts they are.

The bile, the aches, the pain my body holds,

All just a signal to call in the Grace,

To look Grief in the eye,

And walk me home.

I hear Love’s whisper in the wind as I swim,

Feel Her soak deep into my being.

Allow Her to rewild me to my true nature,

Surrender to the breaking down,

Of boundaries within,

Unshackling beliefs, concepts and unhelpful patterns,

That have gripped too fast for too long.

There’s a lightness now to my stroke.

I too am living wild and free,

Immersed in this boundless pool of divine Love.

Comments and contemplations welcome

The Grace of the Apple Tree

September 7, 2024 / Chloe Kyle / 10 Comments

Her silhouette tilts, limbs askew,

Trunk leaning, gnarled and knobbly,

Hollowed out from base to branches,

By feasting termites.

Gaping holes laced with cobwebs

Pepper her battered bark,

Streaming rays of sunlight in,

Through the very core of her being.

Yet she stands before me now

In a graceful side bow,

Branches laden with bountiful fruit.

I wonder at the depth and strength of her roots,

How far and wide must they reach,

These intricate, internal networks of nature,

Under soil, out of sight.

The abundance of connections they have made,

In the ecosystem of the earth, the field, the sky,

For her to weather perhaps a century of storms,

Onslaughts of drought, deer, disease.

And the hand of Grace that flows within,

Gifting ground, bird, bee, butterfly,

And all that lies in her wake.

I close my eyes and reach within,

Through my weary body, my wayward mind,

See my tangled roots, my engrained patterns,

Shackled by shame and anger,

The untrue beliefs that form their foundation.

In the quiet beyond, I too feel this flow,

The power, the wisdom, the love.

And hear a tender whisper to let go.

Such sweet surrender. What Grace would it take to

Split me open, feel the flow through my being,

Be His vessel, gift His fruit?

For now, I pick these beauties to cook and gift,

Green orbs of wonder tinged with red,

Stewed with butter and cinnamon,

In a crumble with blackberries,

And with each step along the way,

Each gentle stir, each juicy taste,

Marvel at the Grace to bear such majesty,

Give thanks for my small part in this divine play,

And yearn for more.

Such is the wisdom of this ancient apple tree.

Take a bite; a box awaits you outside my door.

Comments and contemplations welcome

Taking Flight

June 13, 2024 / Chloe Kyle / 6 Comments

The last chick flew the nest today,

Leaving the comfort, security and nurture,

Of all she knew to be true,

Opening wings and trusting flight—

A leap of faith into a brand-new world.

Yesterday, she teetered on the edge,

Reluctant to swap the warmth, the on-tap grub,

The protective shelter of her cosy abode,

For a life of foraging and fending for herself,

In a limitless land of hedgerows, trees and sky.

What does it take to finally fledge,

To heed the call from within and make the leap?

How much courage, strength, trust and love,

Must be coursing through your veins,

To surrender all that is, and take flight?

It’s time to stop wavering on the brink.

Let go of old reasons to be, concepts and patterns,

Summon your spark of divinity, feel the power of your potency,

Open the wings of your potential and take flight,

Into the vast, boundless unknown.

You already have all that it takes,

To make Grace your sole partner in flight,

To salvage the treasure from the deepest parts of your being,

To soar and shine with it from the uppermost heights,

To become the Radiant Love you are.

Comments welcome.

Easter Gifts

March 31, 2024March 31, 2024 / Chloe Kyle / 4 Comments

Amidst the dawn chorus, the blue tit brings her gifts.

A twig of hazel, a tuft of dry grass,

Selected with care, placed with intent.

Layer upon layer, day by day,

She lovingly builds her nest.

Today she carries sprigs of moss to soften her bed.

Her mate passes her a slender shoot of beech,

Adding strength, structure, comfort.

Bit by bit she ferries in her treasures,

Ever more immersed in creating her safe harbour.

I too am making a home for myself,

Each dawn I slip into the golden rays of Grace deep within,

Lay down all mind’s burdens and play awhile,

Soaking in the radiant truth of this sunlit glade,

Aspiring to master the dance of this inner sanctum.

This sunrise, I bring the whole of myself,

My fault finding, broken, wilting parts,

Tarnished with resentment, pain and shame.

I light a candle, sip hot tea, and gather around the warmth,

Of my own inner fire, calling Grace in.

Our flame blazes through any perceived problems,

Self-imposed barriers, heavy obstacles to truth.

Grace softens my edges, balms my scars,

Shows divine purpose behind every limitation,

That all is for Love.

Day by day, gift upon gift, a sacred refuge is built.

We are co-creating a hallowed home within,

Where treasures of Grace abound,

As I step up to partner this divine dance,

Love’s miracles of rebirth emerge.

An egg of expanded consciousness,

Gives way to a new awakening,

Watch me grow my wings and fly.