Categories
Poetry

A Little More Than This

I do not care to be seen.

I do not wish to scramble,

do not wish to fight my way

to the top

to be seen,

to be loved

a little more than this.

Perhaps I should try harder

to care.

Perhaps I should wish

that I might choose,

one day,

to fight like them

until I have been

chosen

and loved.

A little more than this.

Categories
Poetry

Loneliness

There is depth and beauty in loneliness.

It is quiet.

Peaceful.

And though I’ve never known it,

loneliness is the wave that has known me

a lifetime, long.

Its quiet waits for nothing,

it just hangs in the air,

aching,

holding me closer

and closer

until I am quiet, too.

I will try to let it be.

To never ask it to leave,

but instead,

let it fill me

until I have no room left inside.

I will let it be, now,

loneliness.

I will no longer be attached

to wishing it gone.

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Categories
Poetry

Forgotten

So you’ve forgotten what it feels like

to unfold yourself,

to undress, her soul

in your hands

like the dream

she was always meant to be

for you.

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Categories
Poetry

I Am The Air

Music is the wind,

and I am the air.

And we gracefully dance,

and we blissfully play,

and we claim our place

within the fabric of

the other

until we are one.

man wearing denim jacket singing on stage
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Categories
Life

The Journey

Life, for me, has been an up and down ride.

A little like one of those slides at the playground, the ones that follow a wave-like movement and snake you all the way down to the ground, sometimes taking your stomach with it.

Life, for me, also changed when I had the epiphany that my body (and I believe all bodies, but that’s a theory for another post, I suppose) was absorbing the energy of life around me, and I was reacting heavily based on whatever it was absorbing. Needless to say: learning, and exploring, the term Empath changed my life. And learning about subtle energy and meditation changed it even more.

This morning—all in the space of an hour—I’ve had memories resurface that (although I missed the memo at the time) were very obvious signposts as to my body’s highly sensitive nature. I’ll never forget, about a million years ago, sitting in the passenger seat of our old clunker with my Dad at the wheel. Every morning we would travel to our shared workplace together, and every morning, in a confused state of discomfort, I would shudder as I listened to the morning show hosts chatter away.

I adored the two of them. The whole town did, actually, they were a beautiful pair. But. They were extremely negative, and always it felt like there was a heaviness or grumpiness to their chatter that had me dreading the morning commute. It was confusing because I liked them. It was horrible because they felt so entirely uncomfortable within my body.

I now understand that this is because of the way that I am built, that the more dense the feeling I’m exposed to, the more I tend to flounder. As a result, a good amount of alone time is extremely important for me to get back into the middle of me. Extremely important. (Have I mentioned how important alone time is for me? Very.)

It’s not all bad, though. If grumpiness feels completely horrible to me, you might be able to guess how absolutely beautiful love feels within my tiny human frame. And nature. And music— oh good heavens, don’t even get me started on the absolute purity that music fills me with. It feels like a beautiful wind. A wind that twists and frees my body in ways I never thought possible.

Anyhow, it’s a journey. A beautiful adventure, filled with tears and joy and all the horrible lovely things. Where to next?

I suppose we’re all about to find out. 🙂

woman in brown jacket and gray knit cap
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Categories
Poetry

The Same

Bliss

and

grief

are powerfully

confusingly

the same.

Categories
Musings

In-between

I’ve just read a friend’s blog post.

It’s broken me in half, completely stripped my soul bare.

It was about that very raw and real human conundrum: that invisible place between here and there.

That pristine place that almost exits, but doesn’t quite, and maybe never will.

That place in-between— it aches of unattainable knowing.

It is the fire that the phoenix rises from, before flying into the sunshine of a beautiful new day.

It feels so scary, to be here in this place in-between.

Do any of us ever know what’s on the other side of the flames?

No. 

Maybe that’s what makes this place feel so raw.

So truly achingly real.

Humanity.

What the bloody hell do you do to me?

woman sitting on floor while leaning on chair
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Categories
Life

This Beautiful Sadness

I’m down in the depths of me, today.

It feels like sadness, but it is far more powerful than that.

This beautiful sadness.

It is a sadness I long for, a sadness I crave.

It flows through my veins until there is nowhere left for it to go but out.

Onto this page.

Into new hearts— yours, his, hers, theirs.

I was always told this bliss only lives in happiness.

But this is not happiness.

This is an ache.

This is the most beautiful ache of all.

woman lying in bathtub filled with water
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Categories
Life

True Love

True love is not

a think.

True love

is a feel.

man in black overcoat and blue denim jeans kissing while carrying a woman in pink overcoat and knit cap on shore at daytime
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Categories
Life

The Year of Us

When I write my words, when I set them free in this little bloggy land of mine— the one where you’ve come to meet me, now—I become a better version of me. I can feel it. I can feel the happy moving within me, making my outer edges soft, making my inner edges kind.

It’s what I want my words and my life to be.

Soft.

Kind.

And absolutely overflowing with fluffy and mushy and sweet.

That’s why I adore this very bloggy world we share.

It fills my life with chances. Chances to share what it is to be human. Chances to share joy, chances to share pain, chances to share as little or as much as I want, on any given day, about any given thing.

Gosh I’m grateful to have shared so many chances with you.

You might be wondering where all this gooey stuff has come from, and that’s okay, because I’m ready to tell you. It’s come from freedom, the freedom I’ve allowed myself within the walls of this life-filled place.

This heart of mine doesn’t need to do quiet, in this place.

It doesn’t need to do scared of being different, scared of being judged.

It just needs to do me in all of my mushy, fluffy everything.

Anyway.

It’s been one whole year of words from me—

a whole year of this little blog of everything.

And I can’t thank you enough for joining me on the ride.

xx Brooke

close up photo of people holding hands
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