Categories
Poetry

Until The Garden Grows

Your truth is true

because you believe it.

And you must believe it

until you no longer do.

There is no quick way to birth a rose.

A rose must slowly

awaken

to beautiful

wide-open

life.

Wide-open-life.

It is a place that exists only

in the sky of us.

A neutral place,

where all are loved,

and all love

unconditionally.

Believe what you will.

Choose a side

if you will.

It is true for now.

It is true, only for now.

Until the rose opens.

Until the garden grows.

Categories
Poetry

Only Quiet

There is no sound.

There is only the air.

There is only the peace that was stolen

from the garden

of every man.

There is no sound.

There is only quiet, now.

Categories
Life

Giving Back

What did I actually do for others, apart from give them my love? What did I do to help lift their burdens, to help them maximise their true life potential by easing (or helping to expand) life for them in some small, practical way. There were openings and offerings on occasion, of course, but I never did figure out how practical kindness worked when it was outwards facing and flowing.

The practical part was where I tended to get stuck. I’d have a beautiful, heart-warming idea and then I would find some excuse not to follow through. Partly it was because I was (cough: am) a massive procrastinator. More often than not, though, my practical kindness was thwarted by selfishness.

During the time I was separated from my husband — during the very little money part, during the very little time part, during the depression part — I found myself needing to accept the help of others, really for the very first time in my adult life. And, finally, I learned the importance of being there for others.

I did my Pop’s garden, today—I’m ashamed to say, for the first time (usually I’d leave it to my aunties and uncles). But today, I bought the most beautiful statue I could find at the gardening shop, plonked her in the garden bed by the back door, and pruned until a lovely halo of flowers surrounded her soft-grey concrete. Here I was using my kindness and creativity to practically help my most cherished humans. And I knew it was right.

Usually I’d just sit there on family visits, and we’d have tea, and we’d chatter and laugh, and I’d go home feeling beautifully fulfilled and very much loved. Quite selfishly fulfilled, I would say, looking back, now. Today, though, I gave back. And it truly did feel like I had come home.

My Nan was the gardener of the family. She had the softest, kindest heart, with a great big burst of generosity and passion coursing through her soul, and she loved that garden just as much as she loved her family. Roses were her favourite. And now they are mine, probably because they were hers.

So I’m going to make it my mission (well, one of them) to put all my heart and soul into that garden. For my family. Because I love them so dearly, and because they’ve given and given and given to me, in more ways than I’d ever be able to recall.

It’s my turn, now, to give back.

So I will.

Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Beyond It All

I will always be here.

Feeling this depth of life,

remembering how much I have loved

and lost

and never regretted a moment.

Life has never attacked me,

though I’ve been broken by its force

many a time.

I try to remember:

on the other side of fear and pain,

there lives love.

Always, there lives love.

And my goodness.

I have loved.

Darling.

I have loved beyond it all.

Categories
Life

Home Alone

I’m home alone, tonight.

And when I say I’m home alone, I mean my children are here, my husband is not.

And when I say my husband is not, I mean I’ve been keeping a secret, and that secret is that for some weeks now, my husband has been my husband again. Married. All the way through, once more.

In other words, our year and a bit apart has come to a close.

We’ve decided to stay together.

When my heart woke and began to glow for everything and everyone, it became apparent that the love between me and my very own body-mind-heart-soul was the only love I’d ever truly need. And so why choose a new man who could never be perfect. Why not choose the same old lovely one, who I could work with, grow with, be with, knowing I am fully loved and beautifully cared for. Imperfect, he is. Just like his wildly creative, highly emotional wife.

This feeling that the sun shines from my heart: it’s shown me that no man will ever be perfect, no relationship completely shiny. As I lay alone all those many nights (often loving the single life, often really quite lonely, actually, and aching for the parts of our old life that were no longer available to my children in quite the same way) I wondered if the shine I sometimes saw in my eyes meant that I was home. And if so, was I now solid enough within my new found self to go back to my other home?

Home: the place my babies wouldn’t miss their Dad.

Home: the place that held me, knew me, loved me.

Home. To the guy I’d forgotten I loved so dearly.

Until I remembered, again.

I’m home now.

I’m home now.

Photo by Marina Abrosimova on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Yes, No, Life

Am I a good

and proper

human.

Yes.

No.

Life.

Categories
Poetry

Sleep

Each moment is new and beautiful in my eyes.

This heart has been touched

by the wind of change

enough to know that everything begins

but nothing ends.

Not really.

Not really.

And so I sleep in the arms of the one I love,

knowing I am safe,

knowing I am home.

Knowing nothing has ended

or broken.

Knowing that everything goes on

and on

and on.

Categories
Poetry

Just A Rose

A rose is just a rose

to those who choose

not to know her.

Categories
Poetry

Parents

To the parents.

Sometimes it is hard.

It is.

It just is.

Always remember the storms do pass.

Always remember the softness

and the sweetness,

the rose beyond the grey.

And we will grow them

perfectly

horribly

beautifully.

And all will be as it should.

All will be as it should.

I see you.

Photo by Josh Willink on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

All I Know

All I know is my heart.

All I know

is when it stretches

and when it breaks,

the same words return

and return

and return:

I love you, anyway.