Categories
Life

Fully Human

I’ve seen that image, again.

She sits alone (you could not get any more alone) at her husband’s funeral and we all just sit here and shake our heads, because what else is there to do?

I’m speaking of the image of the Queen at prince Philip’s funeral, but you already knew that. You must have. Who could un see that quiet ache, just another handed to us by the raging depths of humanity.

***

I have hidden from life.

Strike that. I am hiding from life.

Because it wasn’t the Queen sitting there alone that day, it was me. I feel the pain that deeply.

It wasn’t someone else’s little boy sitting in the back of a war zone ambulance, parentless; it was mine. That one slices my heart.

I can’t hide from that darkness, though I want to.

I have to see it.

I have to say it: I am torn to shreds.

***

I cried in my husband’s arms the other night.

I mean I really cried, remembering a time in childhood where I was chosen last of all the children in my class to join the netball team.

I cried, at first, for the poor and beautiful little girl whose heart broke that day. But the depth of my tears came from the realisation that that very moment in time made me the person who will always go in to bat for anyone who needs me. That girl will try her very best to lift others, so that no one else has to feel the pain of being unloved, unworthy, unchosen.

Born is the true beauty of aching life.

And born is the paradox. The knowledge that the other needs to feel that very same empathy-birthing pain, in order to truly see. Even though I’d give anything to protect them from it.

***

You see it, don’t you?

This ache, this wide open ache of humanity, has birthed the very best of us. It has grown our hearts and gifted us the ultimate; the chance to hold and love others from the very core of our being.

But, goodness gracious me.

It hurts to be fully human.

Fully seeing, fully being…

everything.

Photo by Nathan Martins on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Unity

Unity is the magic pill.

But unity

does not look like

shaming the broken.

Hear it.

It is this,

my truth,

I speak.

Categories
Life

Together

I have known a life and more.

I have tasted shame,

I have found my way

on the dark and dreary road.

I am you,

and you are me.

Together,

we are human.

Together we are home.

Categories
Poetry

Glimmer

Beautiful are the moments

where I remember

you are you,

and I am me.

Perfectly.

Beautiful are the mornings

the sun shines on cobwebby thoughts

and there I see the glimmer of truth.

How beautiful you are.

How beautiful I am.

How beautiful.

To know that different

is not another word for wrong.

Photo by Blue Bird on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Waves

I have lived on this earth with them,

but not apart of them.

It is a story I have not written.

I,

( whoever ‘I’ is )

would not write a story such as this.

I am them and they are me,

and yet there is a silence so loud in the air

that feeds on my soul,

and asks me to learn to be happy

despite of it all.

I love,

and I see they would love

if they would stop

for a moment

and breathe.

There is a beautiful fire in the belly of them.

A pure, raging storm

meant for the rising of their beautiful day.

But they use it to fight.

To stay lost in childhood gone by

and I resist it.

I resist the binds their stories have gathered,

knowing I am not a story of shame, fear, or hate.

I try to hold them, I try to wait.

And yet, perhaps I might try

to fall into the ocean of it all

and understand,

without resistance,

that I am just one of many waves

surging differently to the rest.

Photo by Pawel Kalisinski on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Sending A Cuddle

Hello my beautiful bloggy friends 🙂

Technically I’m still on my bloggy break, but I’ve been feeling an urge to reach out to you all and send some invisible flying cuddles, just incase you need them.

There is such thickness and density in the air at the moment, and I wanted to remind you that wherever you sit among the noise: you’re quite perfect, just the way you are.

If your petals are orange and all the rest of the flowers in the garden are pink: wonderful.You were born to be orange. So be orange.

So much love, bloggy friends.

I’ll be back next week, sometime.

xx Brooke

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Unconditionally

Bloggy friends?

If ever there comes a time

where you think you have no one,

please remember

that is entirely untrue.

If you feel alone,

If you need more love

more connection

more safety

than you have?

I’m here.

You have me.

I just wanted to say that.

xx

Categories
Life

Bread-loaf

I see, now, that my truth will never be yours.

And your truth will never be mine,

because we are two seperate grains

in the bread-loaf of life.

But we are the same in some ways.

We are both the same loaf of bread.

(Humanity)

We are the same.

But we are different,

and we each have an important

texture

and taste

to grow the world with.

Just think of what we might achieve

together

if we remembered

that each of us

adds nutritional value

to the delicious

bread-loaf

we are.

(Nommmm)

( 😛 )

( xx )

slice of loaf bread with dog face
Photo by Buenosia Carol on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

Categories
Life

Hey You Guys

Psssst.

We’ve still got this.