Categories
Poetry

I Am This

I have decided

there is a way life should be,

a way I should be.

As a woman.

As a mum.

As a fictional character

plucked perfectly from the sky

of humanity.

And I run

and I run

and I run to get there.

To be that.

And I run until I decide

that I don’t have to run there.

Because I am here.

I am this.

I am this.

Categories
Poetry

For Peace

No.

Nothing is more important than peace.

Not to me.

Me who has faced the wicked fire of others.

Me who has held my own heart

and felt it break in my hands.

I have broken,

but I am not broken.

I am ready to find and keep the softness.

I am ready to find and keep the peace.

Categories
Life

Together

I have known a life and more.

I have tasted shame,

I have found my way

on the dark and dreary road.

I am you,

and you are me.

Together,

we are human.

Together we are home.

Categories
Poetry

I Am There

Here on this hillside,

this sweet patch of earth,

I have become.

And there is no further to go,

there are no wings to grow,

I am there.

I am there.

Categories
Poetry

The Window

On days where rain settles on the window, I look to the future with dusty eyes.

How does one peer beyond the droplets there? How beautiful can the horizon appear when my eyes are glazed with the muck and haze of old?

There was a time, once —when I was young and stainless— when the window was free from drizzle, the horizon: apricot sun over a sea of gentle destiny.

But lovely as life seemed without a shadow, I have seen rain awash the hill. Where, in this wild world, truth and softness is but a dream to be wished, and love, a precious ornament easily shattered.

Still, I choose to be grateful. To count the rays of beautiful sun and see beyond the ghastly truth on the hill.

I must choose this light.

The alternative is too dark for me to bear.

Categories
Life

Forgiven

And when she aches

she will know a world beyond herself.

Where thunder becomes her;

a raging fire, waiting to be.

How is this small softness

so wide with grief beyond the day!

How is this smile,

so often true,

suddenly drawn with a question mark?

They will know her pain

only as the tilt of an eye.

They will be forgiven by this one

before they see her sorrow there.

Always, they will be forgiven by this one.

Categories
Life

Life, Ever Fragile

The fragility of life can be truly shocking.

There’s a beautiful line from a Sarah Barellies song called, ‘She used to be mine’.

It goes like this:

Sometimes life just slips in through the back door, and carves out a person, and makes you believe it’s all true.

It makes me think of how funny we all are. How we travel along believing we’re very much in control until suddenly we realise…we never were in control. Not ever. At all.

Perhaps we maintain the beautiful illusion of control, quite well, but ultimately when life steps in and presents its aching quiet…all we can do is look at it peacefully and understand: this is.

Life, ever fragile.

Always beautiful.

In fact, it’s the darkness that shows us what light is.

It is our fragility that shows us our strength.

It is our failures that show us the right way forward.

And it is anger, fear, hate that shows us how deeply beautiful surrender is.

How deeply beautiful love is.

Life frightens me, sometimes, but peace is the shining puddle I look for beneath every rainy day.

I feel it, now.

I feel it, now.

Sending sooooo much love, however life may be swaying you, lovely bloggy friends.

Always, so much love, from me.

xx

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Categories
Life

Myself.

I have seen myself in the world around me.

In the people, things and places I love.

In the people, things and places I hate.

In the people, things and places I care only slightly for.

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I block myself from myself when I am afraid.

When love is too much, too broken or not enough.

When dreams meet reality and reality must win, for the greater good.

I block myself from myself because I don’t know who I am.

And I think I should.

Because others do.

I should, too.

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And so it is I unzip my skin and let it all fall down around me.

The aching of lost dreams.

The stinging hope for dreams to come.

They eat my soul, I hold them close.

I am meeting myself.

I am losing (and missing) myself at the very same time.

Photo by Rachel Xiao on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

To Escape

But if you only have eyes

for the way you think life

should

be,

then surely you are forgetting

to live.

To truly live.

As you are.

In this moment, this

version of life that you

so desperately wish

to escape.

Categories
Poetry

The Next Step

I have spent so much time

searching for the next step,

and yet

the next step

has always been taken.

With no need to search.