Feelings are fickle. Moods and emotions are high-maintenance. I’ve started this year with a new resolution. To focus on growing. Learning and creating. So now when my pain points are pressed (salt in all my wounds), which happens often, I am acknowledging it, respecting the life within, and letting it go.
We have only so many days in our lives. Each passing day is one less to live. But for today, we are alive, we are breathing, we are aware. Peace be to you.
My one true crush is back in town
My hair is not done, my roots on display
My weight has increased, my wrinkles have grown
I think of his eyes, the depth of his blue
And see the echo in his child who is new
I cross the street, I’d rather be swayed
To not say hello, to not stop and greet
I cannot be trusted, my arms won’t behave
To not wrap around him, to hug and embrace
I’ll leave the past, dead as it is
And ignore the sound roaring –
Those pounding heart beats
I took some care and wrapped it around my salted wound, with love I tied it carefully, I dried the blood with the tears from my swollen eyes, and with patience I handed it over to time to complete the final touch.
Crisp white waves
And turquoise seas
Life force pulling
I hear the crash
I feel the cold
I feel the sand
Beneath my toes
I feel alive
I feel at one
I feel the hope
Within my soul
I see the earth
I feel the sun
I glimpse the moon
Joining the fun
And marvel at
The world around
The world above
The world below
Allow the waves
To have their way
Pulling me further
As I submerge
And as I breathe
I submit myself
To a cold embrace
The best book I ever read was the Enchanted Wood by Enid Blyton. She spoilt reading for me because no other book could live up to Silky and Moon-Face and the unfortunately named Jo, Bessie and Fannie not forgetting cousin Dick.
I lived in the home of Moon-Face, could hear the clanging of Saucepan-Man, and could feel the soft, shining hair of Silky.
And I loved the worlds at the top of the tree. How they never stood still. Sometimes magical, sometimes scary, sometimes exciting, sometime peaceful, always moving, never standing still.
I think of the changing worlds of our life. The seasons that pass. And sometimes they are scary. And frightening. And exciting. And enchanted.
And hopefully, maybe, everything will be okay.
He haunts me in my dreams. Visions of skin and eyes and smiles and touch. Moments of bliss. Flesh. The flesh so strong. Overruling any sane thought straining to be heard. He is close to me. When I close my eyes, and my dreams roam unrestrained. We are together and I love him and he loves me. And then I wake.
The coffee is cold.
I was so hot this afternoon, went and relaxed on my bed, and was in that space of being not awake, and not asleep. I’ve started an online course so have been working on that, and feeling somewhat like a student. In my dream-like state a string of numbers popped into my head. 9301589 and yes, followed by a V. Really? It’s now 2017, 1993 is so far away. Could it be that? And again the numbers echoed. 9301589v. I had to confirm for myself.
I felt like a student this morning, so my subconscious handily recalled my student number for me. Helpful as!
Seems there are some things we may never forget.
In the sweltering heat, sydney has been threatening to rain for days, but no rain, now all the clouds have disappeared too, leaving only scorching horrible heat and the only thought in my mind is
I wish it would rain down on me now
I used to write poetry because I was passionate and turmoiled and a little crazy and sometimes crying and in love and in lust and in desire and in temptation and in remorse and in regret and now I write poetry because
We never knew how much time we would have together, years have passed and we still do not know, and so we try to hold on as firmly as we can, but even as we do so
time slips through our fingers