her open heart announced an invitation…
her open heart announced an invitation…
I’m writing a Memoir to my son….this is an excerpt…
It was a Friday,
just one week after my son’s passing,
and we were unable to find
the Master of the High Court,
the purveyor of closure.
Ghastly paperwork was needed.
the nightmare we were living..
I found myself standing outside a trendy Coffee Shop,
somewhere in the City,
in the blazing hot sun,
afraid of a future without my youngest son,
trying to fathom out where I was
and how I got there.
Right in front of me,
sitting at the alfresco Coffee Bar
were about a dozen young guys,
drinking coffee and laughing,
living life the way it is supposed to be lived…
and this was me, a broken-hearted Mother,
whose son had just died,
spinning out of control,
hardly able to keep it together,
sobbing in the street,
tears gushing forth unashamedly,
my grief too severe to care who was watching!
In that moment
all I wanted was to shout out,
“I just lost my son, and there you are, carrying on like nothing happened,
shouldn’t the World have stopped moving,
fallen off its axis,
or at the very least been a little gentler with me today?”
What would they have thought,
would they have taken a moment
Or was this just another day in the City,
a desperate woman
ranting in the hot sun,
being hooted at by passing traffic!
A City where suffering lurks on every corner,
sometimes wrapped up in a bottle of booze.
The Staff at the Coffee Shop asked my eldest son what was wrong,
and he told them about his brother.
I saw their eyes fill with intense pity
and it washed over me like a channeled kind of healing.
It was a knowing,
that somehow they understood.
There were no words,
just a silent gesture
a wave to sit down
and drink my coffee,
all would be okay…
Write a poem in which something big and something small come together.
“The universe is not outside of you. Look inside yourself; everything that you want, you already are.”― Rumi
Once there was a little girl, living in a bijou world,
when all of a sudden
strange events occurred,
something weird in the household stirred.
she was not alone,
a rendezvous with
From the loneliness of her small place,
this doll’s house
that time erased.
A secret guide from celestial lights,
unveiled to her,
In micro gardens of trivial dreams,
from miniature thoughts, where silence screams,
she looked up at the faraway stars,
and the vastness
dissolved her scars,
of being alone in a friendless world,
this teeny Earthling
saw the expanse unfurl!
Aware of the immensity of time,
the cosmos shifted
light became bigger than forever,
atomic tunes hummed together.
The tiniest speck,
on the wide expanse,
an epic universe in her hands,
substantial realms opened her mind,
explaining mysteries of the great design.
The promise was
that if she believed,
realms would open where she received,
the joy of never being alone,
the whole universe was her home.
a boundless universe was inside.
This miniature girl with flimsy dreams,
existing together with the great unseen….
Image courtesy of PixaBay
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb
― Pink Floyd
when i was a child you said some words,
now i know,
it seems absurd,
but on that day,
i changed forever
perhaps i should’ve just said
but i let it grow into my bones,
those words stung
when i was alone,
you never knew the harm you did,
i was just a defenceless kid!
but i grew to believe those words,
a thing you shouldn’t
say to girls,
and now i am grown,
what can i say,
in remembrance of that hurtful day.
I’ll shout it out….
“I’m not a bitch!”
even scream it
at fever pitch!
i remember the trees crumpled in shame,
when you called me,
forgiveness has always been my quest,
but never say,
“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.”
― Brené Brown
From quagmires of pity, I will emerge,
petitions are heard.
A wretched exile,
on uninhabitable shores,
may my soul be restored!
Can I brave the affliction
that has submerged my being,
and find other directions, with authentic meaning?
They say I have courage,
but I feel
on dark and dismal days,
I’m overwhelmed and bleak!
When I can’t see
for the majestic trees,
I surrender my fears,
and fall to my knees
I will keep showing up and let myself be seen,
in transformed aspects
of endowments serene…
“We are star stuff harvesting sunlight.”
― Carl Sagan
I’ve known a place where lies
were born and lived
in deep remembrance.
It was a place too fearful for expression.
It required perfection,
it demanded falsehood.
Looking good was more
important than being human.
It was a place of hypocrisy
and truth was buried in deceitful graves.
I ran from that place
and found my own vulnerability,
my own dark cave of humiliation.
Pretence had weighed too heavy
and had eaten me alive.
I grew to know my imperfection.
I was flawed beyond reason.
I lived like a death row inmate
waiting to end the misery
of my defective identity.
Perhaps I did die
to that false self
to those destructive beliefs
I’m in love with truth
I celebrate imperfection
I embrace vulnerability.