Categories
Poetry

Energy

Energy speaks

truer

than words.

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
Life

The Quiet

The quiet has come upon me, and so I have to write.

It’s a strange quiet, a wonderful one, however mixed with a soft melancholy. It’s been with me, on and off, for as long as I can remember, and so it is that I recognise this feeling as my soul.

The little girl me felt it when she looked out at the big world, an ant amongst giants.

The teenage me felt it when she saw the grey sadness of all the adults passing by.

And now I feel it. When I am not thinking life, but feeling it all the way through to the tender aching parts.

Every version of me has used this quiet to write.

So what is the purpose of this particular post, you might ask, and if you were to ask this you’d be right to do so. I am asking this. But the truth is, I know the answer.

The answer is: my soul has nothing to say, still she must speak.

And this is how she does so.

This is how she sways into the world beyond my eyes.

She has never needed a reason for that.

Photo by ANTONI SHKRABA on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Each New End

Life is a story I tell myself.

And I daren’t tell it wrong

for fear of the unhappy ending.

But what is unhappy?

And what is an ending

if a beginning is found

on the other side

of each new end?

Categories
Poetry

The Wind

The wind, I think,

is peace.

The breath of the earth.

The song of the trees.

And we will bathe in her softness,

today,

and every day.

The wind, I think,

rolls all days into one.

May she catch us

and show us

the truth in her song.

Categories
Poetry

Soft Things

She floats on the wind

as they stare.

And they will never know her

as their own.

Never see her truth

as anything other

than feathers in the garden.

Yet, she knows herself, dear.

And she knows, darling softness,

that a field of daisies

and daffodils

and dandelions waits for her

somewhere.

Where the soft things come together

at last.

Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Kissed

How beautiful to see your tears

and know your soul

has been kissed

by music.

Day 25. Music. The true language of a soul.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Dancing Girl

She danced like no one was watching.

She went to that place where all artists go when they create.

She is my daughter and she is five, but actually she is ageless, and it was this beautiful, ageless essence that danced her.

We thought we were there to watch a busker play his peaceful guitar.

We weren’t.

We were there to watch her.

And to know it was a moment so precious that those of us who witnessed it won’t forget.

My darling girl.

She danced like no one was watching.

Photo by Tiu1ec3u Bu1ea3o Tru01b0u01a1ng on Pexels.com
Day 16. Magic.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

I Am Home

I’ve lit a candle.

Classical piano plays.

I have coffee sitting beside me.

I am home.

Oh my goodness I am home.

The world is busy. The noise, sometimes far too loud.

But there is such beauty and softness in the quiet places.

Let the quiet places sing to your heart, always.

It is my dearest wish for you.

My dearest wish.

All my love.

xx Brooke

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Day 11. The greatest love of all. Home.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

The Ocean

It never ceases to amaze,

the ocean of life;

how wide it must be.

If I can see but one river

from this, my dainty hill.

One glimpse of time,

one slice of space,

what else must the ocean be?

Day Five. How lovely it is to wonder.