Categories
Poetry

Sleep

Oh, weary soul.

I barely see you behind those tired eyes.

Let us rest, deeply,

beautifully,

with compassion

for all life has given, harshly.

It is a darling life.

A life to be cherished

with each breath of our aching day.

I sleep, now,

knowing morning matters

only when it greets me.

I sleep, now.

I sleep, now.

Categories
Poetry

The Home Of Me

For when the rain comes,

I know I am safe in the home

of me.

Photo by Hassan OUAJBIR on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Love Kept Her

And with a smile,

she held life gone by.

And love kept her.

Love kept her,

home.

Home, at last.

Categories
Life

Alone

It is raining, and I am alone.

And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time.

I am alive with all of that.

I am alive with the sorrow and all the quiet of all the world.

I shall drink some coffee.

I shall drink it well, and hold my cup with love.

Categories
Poetry

Seasons

And when there is sun

such as this,

and when there is beautiful drift

and swaying trees,

I see life as it is

and I know it is good.

For, the mind, I know

tells stories.

And yet

perfect truth

is this touch of fresh air.

Just another season.

Another precious season

of darling life.

Categories
Life

Self Forgiveness

They abused their horses; yelled at them, hit them, spat daggers of anger at them, daily.

I was the thirteen year old victim of school bullying at the time, so I smiled when the abusers smiled and I laughed when they laughed (thankfully they weren’t horrible enough to laugh about the abuse.) I suppose a part of me must have thought: well, if they do this to horses, what might they do to me. I’d best tread carefully.

And so I did.

I was a mess of crumbling empathy, inside. Those poor horses. They must have been so frightened and so, so confused.

The two women, a Mother and her teenage Daughter, seemed otherwise nice. They had genuine love for their horses, I could tell by the way they spoke their names and stroked their strong, wide shoulders at the gate, as we talked.

Still. They really were rather horrible, to my thirteen year old eyes. That would never be me.

The day my horse bucked me off in the paddock was an ordinary day. Nothing unusual had happened to upset me. No dark clouds threatened to ruin the perfect sky, or my day as a little sad girl, joyously bounding around on her beautiful, crystal pony.

I was up on the horse.

And then I was down.

And my beautiful grey girl felt the wrath of a Brooke I had never ever been.

I screamed at her. I used words I didn’t even think I knew. I purposely chose sentences I had heard the ‘horrible ones’ using. And although I would never have hit her, I may as well have, because when the dust had settled…I felt such remorse. How had that venom lived inside of me? Did I really think all those horrible words about my very best friend?

I instantly hit the self preservation button, blamed the ‘horrible ones’ for making me behave in this way. Without them, I would never have done this. I was a beautiful, kind person, and wise beyond my years I had been told. Until now. Kind people absolutely never did ‘bad’ things.

But, you see, they did, apparently.

I did.

Every chemical of panic flooded my nervous system.

Horrible me’ had to go under the carpet and she had to stay there, never to be seen again. Only beauty lives here. Only sweet kindness and love.

Today, 26 years later, as I stood in front of the mirror, a flash of feeling came to me, a sludge of shame. And a memory. Of the little girl who had betrayed her own goodness, and tore another beautiful soul down.

Today, I saw the truth of what I had done, and I cried.

My beautiful girl. She had deserved so much more, and I had been capable of giving her everything she had deserved…until the moment I hadn’t.

That was the day I became fully human, imperfect and perfect, all at the same time. I wouldn’t understand this idea until many, many years into the future. Sometimes, I don’t understand it, now.

Self compassion is a beautiful learned skill, and my own has held me well, today. I can hold that silly little girl who really didn’t know any better and I can promise the me I am now that I will better protect my energy in the future.

Too many times I’ve allowed myself to be influenced by others in a way that has been damaging to me, and sometimes to others. I like to think my beautiful pony gave me one of the greatest lessons I’ll ever learn in life, however late I’ve learned it.

It is up to me to protect my boundaries.

It is up to me to choose love, and not the opposite.

And when I slip up and inevitably fail, it’s up to me to love myself enough to find self forgiveness.

Categories
Poetry

The Rose

Even the most darling rose

is a work in progress.

Be the rose.

How beautiful

that she will show you the way

to freedom.

Categories
Poetry

Beautiful

Let me tell you

how the small things you do

are beautiful.

Let me show you this mirror,

let you reach for it in wonder.

This shine belongs to you,

do you see?

Do you see?

Yes,

you see.

Categories
Poetry

Messy Life

There is no need to be afraid of the

not good enough.

This weakness you perceive,

this pathetic softness you scold yourself for

compared to

she who declares herself strong.

Close your eyes.

Breathe and know this.

You are perfection

just the way you are.

For you must know this flimsy frailty

in order to recognise the goddess

who one day will rise within.

It must be.

For without this shadow

the towering goddess inside

would remain hidden to you.

Trust the journey.

Trust in the perfection

of messy life.

Categories
Writing

Moon Unconditional

‘Sun?’

‘Yes, Moon?’ said Sun as he fell into the evening sky.

‘I shine every night. I brighten the humans’ world. Why do they not love me?’

‘Moon?’

‘Yes, Sun?’

‘You have a chip in your tooth.’

‘Do I?! Oh, no! Maybe that’s why!’

‘Moon?’

‘Yes, Sun?’

‘It’s a tooth.’

‘I know. And I don’t want a broken one.’

‘But you have a broken one.’

‘Sun! You are not hearing what I am saying! The humans don’t love me and I don’t want a broken tooth.’ Moon stormed around the sky, looking for her lost boot.

‘Moon? I love you. And you have a broken tooth. Not but, and. Did you hear me? And you have a broken tooth.’

‘Sun. I have no idea what you’re on about,’ said Moon, putting her found boot on and keying in her crescent shine coordinates.

‘I know, Moon, I know. You’ll understand one day.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You will.’

And with that, Moon said goodbye and shone unconditionally for the humans below.