Categories
Poetry

Only And Always

The wind cannot be caught.

It cannot be moulded to perfection,

scraped and gutted

and made to be something other than

what it is.

The wind is only, and always, the wind.

And you

are only

and always

you.

Flow as you will.

Photo by Natalie on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Soft

It’s funny. To think of the damage caused by cultural norms and stereotypes.

Of course, there are the absolutely beautiful cultural narratives out there. Those that cherish and honour human life by holding it, by respecting it so beautifully that even the hardest of hearts must surely be touched by the story of it all.

I heard a story as beautiful, just the other day. My counsellor told it to me: how, in her culture, when a woman becomes pregnant, she becomes the queen. The whole tribe lavish her with love, care, and most importantly, perhaps…food.

This discussion came about after a lovely tender moment where she looked over at me, my bulging belly sweetly growing a perfect little gift, and offered to bake me something lovely to celebrate the occasion (that’s right, surprise, I’m fourteen weeks pregnant. And how lovely it is, to me. How lovely it is. xx)

But, I digress. Because although there are some absolutely beautiful cultural stories passed on by certain cultures in the world, other cultures do not even realise their own toxicity. (And when I say toxicity, what I mean is…truly, their cultural ideas are heartbreaking and damaging to individuals who do not fit into the selected story being told.)

There are some absolutely wonderful things to be said about the culture I was born into. But one arm of the narrative, an arm that destroyed any hope of me developing healthy self-esteem in my early years, was the idea that vulnerability and softness were somehow character flaws. I was mostly soft.

As it turns out, this soft part of me, this sensitivity, is my super power; a power that helps me soothe, and bring safety to those who need it. A power that helps me tap into the world of everything and nothing, and pull down the words and creativity needed for my writing to touch people in the way that it seems to.

But my culture called me ‘soft’. It told me to ‘harden up’, and it assumed that If I didn’t…then surely I must be broken, at worst. Naive at best. Never have I been these labels.

And if you are a deep and tender heart resonating with these words…never have you been these labels, either.

Always we’ve been perfect.

Just the way we are.

Think of the trillions of flowers, plants and trees out there. Some are soft. Some are hard, shrubs built to last in the wind and rain and hail. None of them judge each other for being ‘wrong’ in anyway. They simply exist.

And so do I.

So do we.

Photo by Brianna Martinez on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Sweet Eternity

Oh, the heat

that I see

that I feel

that I know.

I will be the flame

to my own fire.

I will light the path

of burning

sweet

eternity.

Categories
Life

The Wilderness

Mmmm.

The wilderness within.

Let her rise

above the soft waves of propriety.

Let her unleash her greatest longings.

Let her fall into the darkest of nights.

Set her free, see her run

beyond form, beyond care,

beyond life.

Let her rise.

Let the wilderness

slowly

rise.

Categories
Poetry

Isn’t It Funny

Isn’t it funny

that for a moment

you forgot how wonderful you are.

Sweet, dancing sunshine.

Isn’t it funny.

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Categories
Poetry

Permission

The song of this heart

sings

without

permission.

Categories
Life

Wildfire

I am a wildfire.

Where the flames fan wide

and the blue ripples split

the deep orange stream.

I cannot control what is wild and free.

I cannot control

a wildfire

like me.

Categories
Life

Just The Way You Are

For the ones who think they are broken.

You are beautiful.

Just the way you are.

Categories
Poetry

Woman

I couldn’t possibly know who I am.

I’m so many things, places, people, feelings: it would be impossible to really say.

Who I am, that is.

The question of who I want to become also seems pointless.

I want to become whoever I become.

I want to feel, and know, and see life from every angle—

to chase the wind as it takes me.

Who I am now is soft,

is gentle,

is wild,

is alive,

is both free and caged,

all at the same time. 

The wind of me never stops at one station, only.

I am a woman; passionate, creative, strange.

A woman.

Beautiful, kind, ugly, horrible.

I couldn’t possibly know who I am;

I never stay the same.

I never will stay the same.

woman in the back of a van looking at mountains
Photo by Alex Azabache on Pexels.com

 

 

Categories
Life

Dear Heart

Dear heart,

thank you.

For singing to me

the beauty of my soul.

And having me believe

every sweet sound of it.