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
Poetry

I See Me

The soft girl whispers in my ear.

I drift each cushion to the foot of the bed and carefully place it off to the side, as if it were made of precious, gold leaf.

I peel back the doona; the sight of a crisp sheet peeking out beyond its triangular puff will never cease to satisfy.

The world runs fast.

I run slow. Smooth. Deep.

Just the way I was made to run.

I see the pace of the world, I do not choose it.

I see me, now.

I choose me, now.

Photo by Dziana Hasanbekava 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.

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Categories
Poetry

Like I am

Deep within my heart

there is a river, raging on.

And I ask this river to be careful.

‘I am fragile,’ I say, on the softest breath.

‘Sway me,

always,

never to rush me,

never demand.

Hold me carefully, river.

Hold me carefully,

I am not like the others

made of brick and bone

and steel.

I am only like I am.

I am only like I am.

Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Cookie

Wondering about that second cookie.

It exists, should I eat it?

If I eat it, it will still be all it was

before I gobbled it down.

New shape.

Different texture.

Same ingredients, same everything else.

Should I eat the cookie?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe.

Categories
Poetry

The Wind

Oh, but darling.

The wind will take you, anyway.

Ain’t no fighting the wind, darling.

Ain’t no fighting the wind.

Categories
Life

Loveliness

Ah, the loveliness.

There it is again.

As smooth as the drifting river,

as quiet as the song of a mother

to the sky.

Lovely loveliness.

The sweetest of all the dreams.

Categories
Poetry

Fly Away

Here I am, now.

Me.

And I fly and I fly

and I fly away, now.

Still me.

Flying, flying away.

They tell me not to fly away.

They tell me not to fly away.

Categories
Poetry

Home

Living carefully and beautifully,

I know I am home.

Categories
Poetry

Try A Little

The quiet moments when we see

we’ve been wrong.

They melt the ice of life

into sweet drifts of frost on wind.

I have been wrong

to my own heart,

often without knowing.

I have been wrong,

some days,

some days, it’s true.

Now I float in the mist

of a forgiving heart.

A forgiving heart

to soften the frost,

to sweeten the day around me.

This day.

A try a little, day,

I think.