Categories
Poetry

Control

Control.

Lack of it.

Need for it.

Flight from it.

Control.

There will always be

hunger

for freedom.

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Categories
Poetry

Isn’t It Funny

Isn’t it funny

that for a moment

you forgot how wonderful you are.

Sweet, dancing sunshine.

Isn’t it funny.

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Categories
Life

Human

I cannot un-see the dirty cheeks: the little toothless boy in the back of the ambulance. It was a bomb. How many of his family lay buried beneath the rubble, I’ll never know, I looked away. Every so often I see him there, though, that beautiful little boy in my mind. The Son of another, and yet, somehow, my Son, too.

We need to change, don’t we, before we explode ourselves into oblivion. I’ll be the broken record, again, and tell you that I don’t believe change can come from the blaming, shaming, incarcerating narrative we seem to have clung to as a so called intelligent species.

We’ve sent men to the moon.

And yet, still, we continue to feed our egos around the water cooler, blaming and shaming the perpetrators of crime, rather than working with our empathy to understand, and gently shift team humanity to a better place.

I know it’s hard. We are human, after all, we are designed to fight and defend: and thank goodness for that, or we’d never have survived our caveman days. I wonder if we might be able to think about it for a moment, though, perhaps use our hearts a little more in our decision making processes going forward?

What if, for a moment, rather than jumping to the attack, we looked into the humanity of the ‘monsters’. What if, for a moment, we saw criminals as humans, just like us, who believe different things, and do not know how to perceive any differently without a quiet (persistent) conversation. Will we change them by attacking them? No. I don’t believe so.

I always come back to a wonderful writing quote I learned when studying for my masters: Every villain is the hero of his own story. It’s true of understanding the inner workings of a good story, and it’s true of understanding the dark side of humanity. A person will not change if he believes he is acting for good. Many a villain does, in fact, act with the absolute belief that he is working for the good of someone. Unfortunately, there is often a loser. How do we fix this? I don’t know. But I know it’s not with anger and hate.

I wonder: is it time we looked at ourselves, finally, and admitted the truth. We’re on the same team. Can we not fight to save the lives of the murderers of the world, before they kill again? Can we not fight to see the point of view of the next car bomber, before he feels the need to play a game that nobody wins?

I wonder those things sometimes.

I might keep wondering about them some more.

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Categories
Poetry

A Story

It smells like a roast

but it feels like a story

of love,

of a garden,

and of home.

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Categories
Healing

Brave Face

I walk the streets listening to music that makes me cry.

I suppose I will do this until I have made peace with my past and become all that I am in this moment forever onwards, but for now, this is me: and me feels achingly beautiful. Like snow.

To walk the streets in this way, releasing newly risen anger and pain, is the gasp for breath I’ve needed to take for so long. Was I holding my breath, all those years? What did I do with anger and sadness before I learned to tie them in a ribbon of apricot sun?

I am no different to the one who reads this. Each of us travel through childhood gathering scars we will carry for the rest of our lives, or at least until we face them. I am facing mine, now.

I am feeling the anger and the pain.

I am also feeling a greater love than I’ve ever known.

For the sweet little girl I was, and still am in many ways.

For the beautiful people who loved me. How they nurtured my softness, how they pained to see it tarnished by the hardness of the world.

This is the gentle home of me.

Please, come in, just the way you are.

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Categories
Life

Sending A Cuddle

Hello my beautiful bloggy friends 🙂

Technically I’m still on my bloggy break, but I’ve been feeling an urge to reach out to you all and send some invisible flying cuddles, just incase you need them.

There is such thickness and density in the air at the moment, and I wanted to remind you that wherever you sit among the noise: you’re quite perfect, just the way you are.

If your petals are orange and all the rest of the flowers in the garden are pink: wonderful.You were born to be orange. So be orange.

So much love, bloggy friends.

I’ll be back next week, sometime.

xx Brooke

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Categories
Poetry

Who Are You?

Who are you?

What do you need

to feel like

the you you’ve forgotten you are.

Hint: It’s the first thing that comes to your mind, bloggy friends. Doing that thing will help you live your best life. I’m so sure.❤️

Ps. I’m going to take another break, I think. I’m doing a Writing for Children’s Picture book course, so I might benefit from a bit of space while I move that through my world.

Please feel free to stalk all two years worth of my blog if you miss our daily love ins. You know I love nothing more than sharing my heart with you all. Go nuts. xx And have an amazing week. ❤️

xx Brooke

Categories
Poetry

Each Day

May each day

bring each heart

a brand new shining sun.

Categories
Poetry

A Quiet Day

Today my heart is quiet.

And it knows deeply

that it has lived.

Categories
Poetry

Muddy Waters

Muddy waters are pure

beneath the mud.

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