Read Poets Society

© Jonty Cornford 2019    Hush By Jonty Cornford The man could still remember the last thing he said to his daughter. When she was sleeping, head rested on his shoulder like it was now, he could still hear it. Sometimes he could hear it as if it were being spoken again.     His thumb brushed across the scar above her ear, visible beneath her short cut hair, as he watched the ash fall outside. It never really stopped, but right now it was falling heavier than usual. Sometimes it was lighter, and sometimes it reminded him of the first and only time he saw snow as a child. In that moment he was struck by the thought that it really wasn't that long ago. He was probably about his daughter's age. He thought about the fact that she had only ever seen ash, never snow.     The world had been mute for almost seven years now. Just as the man had started to be able to communicate meaningfully with his daughter, just as she had begun to realis...

  © Jonty Cornford 2019 Diary entry #1 26 February, 2017 I’m not really sure why I’m writing this, but I’ll get it down anyway before I lose my nerve. It’s like I need to, like an exorcism. Like maybe once it’s down it will be less real, and I might be able to sleep a little better at night. One can hope, I guess.      My hope is that by sending you this selection of my life’s work you will understand the whole story that I have been hiding from the whole time.      I never used to feel like this. I always thought my life would end up exactly how I had planned it, that I would be able to look back and see everything perfectly in order. A normal life. What does that look like? It’s almost funny to me now how set I was on finding something I wasn’t even sure existed in the form I wanted. It’s awful how ironic life can be sometimes.     There has been a darkness bearing down on me, something dragging at my heels. ...