When the light found me

A meditation on receiving rain, lullabies, light and the gems that appear when we do.

When the light found me

I stepped into a room
when the light found me.
I didn’t look for it
I simply opened
and let it in,
just like that.

I remember it now:
the way the ground
receives rain,
the way the wind
sings lullabies to stones,
until they fracture

and in their fracturing
a gem appeared,
radiant
full of colour
jam-packed with
possibility.

I’m letting the light
flow through me now,
whenever it chooses
I lean into the new self
who keeps tasting
tears of delight.

Living in the In-between

 The prompt for Poets and Storytellers United is "be inspired by the concept of “in between”.

Living in the In-between

Some days I swallow the light,
let it burn small holes in my heart.
Other days I release it,
watch it find wings
and rise above the clouds.

Sweet as sugar words
fall softly like glitter on cupcakes.
But scratch the surface of trust
and sarcasm sprouts
quicker than wild weed,
cutting through
the cake of pride.

So, eat my words!
The ones that fail
to grow sometimes,
yet hang like fairy lights
among the stars,
glowing only
when connection calls.

Some days
I perform in the limelight,
bow to the ghost of an audience,
only to descend the next moment
and disappear into the quiet
hum of the forest.

Living in an alien world,
I play the game
of hide and seek
the rare one,
married
to the in between.

 

Opening doors to echoes

 The prompt for What's going on is to write a poem about loneliness without using the words "lonely" or "alone.

Opening Doors to Echoes

She spills the lemons in the supermarket.
Blue eyes radiating sweetness,
picking up the pieces for her.
It warms her heart
She has enough fuel now,
to get through the day.
Days filled with the tick tock of a clock

Her skin is like dried fruit
her mind waves of haze and clarity
She gazes at the traffic,
at people,
a movie in which she moves slowly
she tries to catch up,
her breath slowing her down

Her age hangs like an old jacket
in a hall of forgotten sleeves.
She loves to dream
of the orchards of the past,
ghosts of a time when sweetness
grew in abundance.
She murmurs to herself,
opening doors to echoes
that still know her name.

Inner Compass

Poets and story tellers United asked : take inspiration from the title of songs in Florence and the Machine’s new album, Everybody Scream. I used Perfume and Milk

Inner Compass

What were you meant to do?
It is written in the scriptures
of your being.
Peel away some layers. 
Remove the debris
of expectations.

Devote yourself to
what is carved in your bones.

Still, the world looks away.

Droplets of doubt
weave into a mist of thoughts.
People already have
Perfume and milk
cars and coffee machines,
holidays and heroes.
Do they need me?

Trust.
You are part of the horizon
you move toward.
Pierce through the fog
knowingly.

One day
the rain will put on his bow,
the sky will open,
your spine will straighten.
You are what you do so much,
you dress yourself in it,
and the world
starts looking.

Wider than walls

the prompt for What's Going On:
Show resistance through art, joy, trust, and love.

Wider than Walls

When you struggle,
remember life is wider than the walls around you.
This remembering is the start of resistance

Beauty speaks
in trees leaning toward the sun,
in the quiet pulse of music,
in a poem opening its hands,
in the soft goodness of people
who forget they shine.
Lean into the arms of this world

The walls around our sadness are not stone
they are only mist,
lifting
as soon as light arrives,
as soon as colour spills on the flowers again,
as soon as warmth touches your heart.
This world will always meet you with light.

Like a nourished plant,
you grow
and there is something in you
that the world cannot break
and that is how you became
the beautiful creation
you are now

All of it is love,
wearing a thousand quiet faces.

And you
even on the days you doubt it
you belong
to that world.

 

Gratitude

Meaning of beautiful

Gratitude

Thank you

for lyric and starlight
weaving around my soul.

I dress myself
in the ocean.
I wash my thoughts
in its water
to receive clarity,
to see the beauty 

strikes of red, purple,
and white stitched
into the sky.

Longing has
a thousand pathways,
each one ending
in light 

in a single flash
of gratitude.