This silence
is the cloud I fall upon
when I don’t know where to fly.
How beautiful
just to float.
Here.
Now.
Eternally.
Category: Poetry
Categories
This Quiet Storm
I am me.
Just me.
Not who you think I am.
Not who you wish I would be.
Just who I am.
This quiet storm.
Me.
Categories
Now They Are One
Shadow dancer on the wall.
Darling of light and form.
A body.
A wall.
Each but a fragment of life
until they find each other.
Now they are one, yes.
Now they are one.
I have found myself, today.
Once again I am everything I am.
I am the passionate stroke of theatre,
and the softest touch of poetry.
My colours are pastel:
peach and mauve,
whimsical tendrils
and earthy wooden grain.
I am woman,
and I am the ocean.
I am life
and I am love.
This day.
Authentically beautiful.
I shall sip on it and call it home.
Categories
Still I Dream
With these soft eyes,
I turn to the angry mob
and I speak.
I tell them to leave me be.
I tell them I want no part
in the way they raise their swords
and bring each other down.
I ask them to spare me their daggers.
They will not understand my requests.
They will see my silver sky and call it grey.
Still, I hope.
Still, I dream of a new day.
It is beautiful,
I think,
to be a very small thread
on the web of it all.
Here we are, world.
Another day of co-creation.
I do not own you.
You do not own me.
And yet we are one
becoming many
through each moment,
each hour,
each breath held
or released
in the face of it all.
Sometimes
I feel five.
Like the world is big
and I am small.
And there are kids all around
bigger than me,
louder,
scarier,
bolder than this softness
that folds me
like tissue.
(No one else folds like tissue.
Just me.)
The softness of me at five
lingers;
a scent
(like lavender)
on the breeze
of my soul.
The softness of me.
The softness of me.
Categories
I Am Loved
There you are
behind a soft, uncertain smile,
surprised that you are loved.
You are loved.
It is your expectation
that has made it seem not so.
You see the world and ask it to hold you
as you wish to be held,
and yet this is not the way life works.
Life will hold you as it holds you
so that you may learn
and grow
and be.
Love is born in the quiet room
between expectation and reality.
Hold yourself in your quiet
and you will finally say:
I am loved.
I am loved.
Categories
Little Light
What colour shall I paint my sky?
Soft-pink and grey:
clouds of spun sugar,
sweet dreams that drift me to life?
Bring me a cool breath of clarity.
Bring me a little light,
and I will shine it, wherever I may go.
Though the roads may crumble
and darken
and fade,
I will have my little light.
I will have my sweet dreamy sky.
