Categories
Poetry

Control

Control.

Lack of it.

Need for it.

Flight from it.

Control.

There will always be

hunger

for freedom.

Photo by Emre Kuzu on Pexels.com

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.

Photo by Kehn Hermano on Pexels.com
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

Asking Questions

It is not the darkness

of others

I fear.

It is my own

crimson need

to mould the world

into a shape

that cannot possibly exist,

or remain.

Perfection is rigid,

solid,

stiff.

Life

is the ever flowing river

of everything,

everyone,

every way.

Broken?

Unbroken?

Right?

Wrong?

There is nothing

but life asking questions.

And answering them

as it will.

Categories
Poetry

Sweet and Quiet

The sweet and quiet of life is where my soul belongs.

The essence of a strawberry.

The taste of the softest kiss beneath a swaying tree.

It is not all that I am, this sweet and quiet that calls me.

But it is my favourite place to be.

My favourite aspect of everything.

Photo by Alina Vilchenko on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Heaven on Earth

I am the the trees and the wind.

Two melted into one:

Body and soul

travelling the pink lace road

of heaven on earth.

Categories
Poetry

A Great Land

I have lived in a great land

beyond time,

beyond name

beyond here.

Where the sun kissed my soul

morning and night,

and my days were surrounded

by honey pink flowers

and tangerine trees.

Sometimes,

I try to forget about that place.

The faded perfection of this world

never does compare

to the sweet milky sunsets

of my homeland.

Still, I visit occasionally.

Still, I suppose I always will.

Categories
Poetry

Resistance

When the wind whispers

into the bones of the trees,

it is calling to say:

‘This is life as it is.

And my breath will bend you

the way that it does.’

Resistance is futile

when you’re a tree.

Categories
Poetry

Permission

The song of this heart

sings

without

permission.