Categories
Life

Heavy

I am a child of the wind.

My bare skin knows the beauty of this life, and yet, within these soft walls, I am bare.

How heavy it is to hold this uncertain hand of mine.

Sometimes.

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Categories
Life

A Quiet

There is a quiet, here.

My husband is away, so it’s just me and our sleeping children beneath this roof. In this room, it’s just me and my heart quietly whispering away. What is she saying? I’m not entirely sure.

She’s telling me I worry too much.

That I should remember the wind and her sweet softness. How peacefully she blows, without a thought, without a care or question.

She’s telling me she sees me. That even though, sometimes, life’s tenderness swells to the point of overflowing…I’ll always be okay. My tears could fill an ocean some days. After they fall, though, everything seems a little brighter than it did before, and a little softer, perhaps.

I do like the softness very much.

It feels like peace, it feels like calm, it feels like love.

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Categories
Poetry

Sadness in The Corner

There is sadness in the corner.

A beautiful sadness that calls to me, many a day, and I can’t help but follow. I can’t help but wonder why.

When life is ever so dear, and joy is found sweetly in the eyes of the ones I love, why is the sadness in the corner? When the rest of the room is flooded with colour; the corner.

Why is it aching, why is it grey?

Whole and beautiful life is here,

but the corner.

Why is there sadness in the corner?

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Categories
Poetry

Lonely

But I am the wind.

And my soul is alone

as it blows through the jars

of neat and tidy life.

Oh, the aching.

For, home floats free;

I will never be bound.

Can you not see?

I will never be bound.

And my heart cries,

lonely.

My heart cries.

Lonely.

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Categories
Poetry

Happy One

There is a tear in my soul.

They want me to smile,

all the time, they want me to be fine,

this world.

But I am not

(though I am.)

There is a weeping tear.

A wound unhealed and breaking

ever deeper,

every day.

I will tell you this:

I am fine.

And I am,

six colours of the rainbow, fine.

The seventh colour.

It is a golden tar.

An aching soul,

searching.

An aching child

within the hardened walls

of a happy one.

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Categories
Life

Heaven On Earth

My soul held the music, and we were one.

There is no other way to describe it but that heaven exists on earth, and for several moments, I was there.

There is a beautiful tender song from Aladdin, where Aladdin sings about being ‘just a poor boy,’ unwanted and unloved.

When I was a child, this scene broke me in two.

It still does because it speaks to a place deep within.

A place that’s says:

Oh, my goodness, I see you.

Now, as I listen to the song there is a new sort of beauty to its lyrical tenderness.

I feel the music, it tells the story as deeply as the words.

It is as if the music itself is conscious.

It is as if the music itself cares.

The way it swells with empathy. The way it rises and falls and twists with aching.

It is heaven on earth.

And I am here, with beautiful music.

And the beautiful love it sings to me.

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Categories
Life

Alone

It is raining, and I am alone.

And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time.

I am alive with all of that.

I am alive with the sorrow and all the quiet of all the world.

I shall drink some coffee.

I shall drink it well, and hold my cup with love.

Categories
Poetry

The Angel There

As the ice drips

from this frozen heart,

here grows the beauty

of feelings gone by.

How I remember you,

dear echo of friendship.

How clear it has become that

kindness

was the angel there.

Categories
Poetry

The Carpet

The wind was crisp

and the sun sang warm to my skin.

The rest of the world was too fast

to know bliss like that.

The truth is: the truth is too expensive;

a depth of emotion most are unwilling

to pay.

Humanity can’t see through true eyes.

Can’t see the fighting is a small child’s game.

Who are the adults?

Let me know when you meet them.

Wounded and scared;

don’t you know how deeply you once felt the world?

The carpet is there for a reason.

The broom is used by all until the carpet

spills the truth.

The truth, they say,

will set you free, and I am free

to tell you that.

But, then again,

the carpet is good, too.

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Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Kissed

How beautiful to see your tears

and know your soul

has been kissed

by music.

Day 25. Music. The true language of a soul.