I imagine that if my mother’s prayers had hands, they would reach out for me everyday of my life. Her prayers and the prayers of my father would reach out for me, covering me - in the same way that the sun inevitably bathed the world in light each morning. Relentless. Unyielding. Unchanging. An act of nature. An act of nurture.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
Lately you've been hurtling stones- full force at my glass house,
little did you know that this is bulletproof glass.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
Ran into the wind again today,
And somehow there was romance in the way the wind smiled at me or perhaps my heart was coloured in with joy by that ******* nostalgia.
I couldn't quite figure it out.
Either way,
There's no longer anything seductive about hurricanes and it will never again be monsoon season on the tropical island that is me.
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC
You are no longer a hurricane wild and free- at least not to me.
I am no longer in the eye of a storm
and I now smile each time the wind blows,
a light breeze on the rare occasions I clamp eyes on you,
the hair of my memory ruffled, tenderly,
I recount how I used to gasp for air in your presence,
how the storm that was you snatched all the air from my lungs
and
oh
the unnatrual silence that would fall upon me in your presence,
unable to articulate the intensity of my desire to love you,
unaware of the fact that a birds song would never be able to hold a candle against the broken howling of the wind that was you.
I don't think that a bird whose wings almost tore at the ligaments, fighting so hard to keep up,
can claim that a storm of that magnitude was of any good to their ability to believe that they were capable of flight-
so I cannot say I miss you.
But I will say this,
there is no part of me that
will ever forget the violence of the storm that was you.
There is no part of me that now takes the gentle breeze for granted
and there is no part of me that doubts my ability to heal, fully, because a restoration has taken place in the parts of me that were left destroyed in your wake.
So I will say that there are very rare and fleeting moments in which the wind picks up unexpectedly,
and I run into you old friend,
you absent hurricane you
and I hope that the winds of your soul have settled into a song that heals your brokenness,
and I smile with an unshaken joy in my heart
now knowing that there is nothing romantic about a hurricane
but my soul smiles still
and occassionally when the winds blow
fiercely in the depths of your soul
re-read the songs of a little bird that loved a hurricane
and know that the songs are no longer sung
but the words have not been forgotten.
Oh when the winds pick up,
there is a bird who remembers the natural disaster of that human hurricane,
Oh when the winds pick up,
that same bird may sing a song of what was,
Oh when the winds pick up,
I pray that a song of joy and restoration reaches your ears.
Oh when the winds pick up,
know I am no longer afraid of hurricanes at all
because after you, I realized that I was never a bird to begin with,
I was never a natural disaster,
but instead
I was mother nature herself-
entertaining a love of a different humor
for but a season.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
" You were cold and needed light. So for you my love I set myself alight"
I wrote that a few years ago about a boy that wanted to keep warm until the winter ended not understanding that I am a fire breathing star called the sun.
Nurture yourself in your light.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 7:18 AM UTC
Beautiful boy,
you never did quite understand the meaning of "I love you".
Not for lack of trying... no never.
Rather because "I love you"' has always had an undercurrent of vulnerability that frightened you, demanded too much of your marred soul, your scarred soul that you spend so much time trying to cleanse..
Like paint brushes in turps I watch you try wash out the essence of your soul in alcohol, you drown your soul in Hennessy, as if speaking those words out loud would be too much for both you and me.
See I love you... to you has always looked like closed doors
and somehow sitting on your lap that night one was re-opened.
re-awakened, somehow I felt your soul bleed into mine and I haven't been able to cleanse myself of you just yet.
You cried that night in my arms, disintegrated a little and I think you thought that I was seeing you at your weakest, but babe...
oh love I had never been quite as enamored as I was watching you disintegrate because in that moment I was granted citizenship into the state of your soul.
War-torn,
in upheaval over a failed love.
The state of the nation that is you was under siege, from a mighty enemy named depression.
Aware of all your weaknesses, the enemy had laid siege to the mainland of your heart.
Crippled by sorrow, the soldiers of your soul lay down arms- unable to put up a fight.
Unable to produce fire rounds any longer.
Unable to move in time to the war torn anthem of late night binge drinking, your soldiers lay down their arms at my feet.
And while your sorrow had decided to reign sovereign- enjoying short-lived spotlight- supreme,
I caught a glimpse of the little left of your heart.
Barely beating,
God barely breathing your chest heaved up and down-
the sound of your breath the only thing reminding you that you were still breathing and though the war ravaged on... you had called a truce.
You had waved the white flag... meekly before laying it over the bodies of broken promises and late nights that haunt you still.
And I know you're haunted... by what could have been.
Should have been.
And while I was granted citizenship into your soul, there is no road-map because the roads are laden with skeletons that I carelessly yanked out of the cupboard of your heart trying to make sense of the little you have left to give.
I know you watch me trip and fall on gravestones in conversation, secrets buried so deep that I get caught off guard eveytime one yanks on my heart strings in the rare moments that you slip up.
In the moments when your pain isn't buried quite deep enough and this girl with eyes a little too brown has managed to exhume the past... pieces of it.
Emotional labour on the landscape of your heart has left me tired.
Exhausted.
Recently I found a river of peacefulness which we call friendship. Still waters, rippling in the moments I remember how badly I wanted to believe you when you said you loved me.
How badly I wished you'd meant it.
Quiet waters of friendship, and while petals of of broken promises of an unrequited love skim the surface, it was more than satisfactory.
Recently, I've been surprised at how much comfort I draw from this stream, bathing in it...
I began to float... Comfortable.
Unaware of what was to come.
Love, why wouldn't you warn me that a tsunami was on it's way?
Because baby I'm drowning.
I'm drowning.
I'm drowning.
I'm drowning.
I'm drowning in you.
In your ambiguity.
In your empty promises.
In your beauty.
I thought I was drinking you in but somewhere along the way I began to drown...
I'm drowning...
One of your soldiers heard my cries.
His name was a drunken "I love you."
And I clutched onto his slippery hand as he pulled me,
exhausted onto the shore named 'I'm sorry'.
I have been lying ashore for a week now,
and while I finger the citizenship of your souls ID card called a whatsapp profile, with an barcode of an archived chat-
I've begun to wonder about intimacy, our safe space...
about us because there is so much u in us right now that somehow the sound of my sorrow has begun to be drowned out by the overflowing stream of forgiveness that I have baptized you in weekly as of late.
My cries have been drowned out as I took you to heavenly heights, hand holding, bible-open.
Eyes closed in reverence.
The same way that your eyes were shut the first night we spent together.
Weighed down by the spirit of a praying womxn you unraveled before me.
Every stitch of your being ceremoniously unraveled with each tear.
Each fear launched with each tear,
like a heat seeking missile into the very core of my being-
received loud and clear.
Unraveled.
The cosmic galaxy that is you enveloped me,
stardust dancing beneath my fingertips as I pulled you closer,
stardust- fragmented and utterly beautiful.
Beautiful,
there is nothing despicable about your brokenness for you are forged from Holy Spirit Fire and an undying love.
Those blue veins that I know you've been tempted to slit open house iron which is literally only found in stardust.
Millenniums worth of beauty flows through your body.
Millennia worth of beauty- locked in each one of your cells.
You are the living breath of Israelite slaves- son of a Lion.
You are the living breath of your ancestors.
You are a glorious, inhaling abyss
and while there are valleys of sorrow housed in your soul,
I have also seen Himilayian-like mountain peaks of your joy,
I have also caught glimpses of the road-map you plan to use to unlock the dreams locked inside your mind,
I have laid eager eyes on the valleys of wild roses that you have planted and watered named 'try again'.
Oh beautiful boy, you are so much more than the rocky hills of anxiety and pitfalls of 'failure' that you think has colored in all of who you are.
You are more than your mistakes.
You are more than your mistakes.
You are more than your mistakes.
Oh ------- ------- you are more than your mistakes.
So with this last exhausted exhale I hand back the membership to the nation state of your beautiful soul.
I realized that it was a visa, perhaps a mere day pass for your season of need.
Perhaps I was just a visitor, enamored by both the light and darkness housed in your beautiful bones.
But it's time for me to return to my home state,
Called Corinthians 13.
Don't be too afraid stop by.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
Sunday, 10:30AM
I'm trying to resurrect my peace that now looks like a love deformed by your empty promises.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
"High hopes... I guess"
she mumbled whilst licking the jay to seal it,
not breaking eye contact for a second.
Truth is, I felt myself doing backstrokes in the ambiguity of her eye contact because I had no idea whether or not she was talking about us, or the 420.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC
I’ve done it since I was a child,
Collapse onto your lap as if the world was a little too heavy and somehow your body moulds to my form, weight. Accommodating every sigh, listening to the symphony that is the sound of your tummy gurgling late at night.
I can no longer fit into your arms, I am no longer your tiny footed photocopy. I have now grown strong, powerful- forged from the flesh of a titan.
Somehow, I always want the world to meet you but I know I don’t talk about you nearly enough.
It’s because no words could ever accurately capture the nuance of mother nature that is you.
And you are my mother, the force of nature from which my biological cloth is cut.
You are home in the most primal sense and I am in love. In love with the way you carry yourself, soft hands, kindness rubbing rythnmic circles on my back when I feel sick.
You are the foundations of my soul on two legs and I will always be thankful for the nature of your love, firm but constant, like a waterfall.
In a constant stream your love has broken rock, moved mountains and convinced me I can do the same.
You are a force of nature, powerful beyond belief.
You are my mother, and I will always be your child.
Standing in the sand storm of life my feet will always remain firmly planted on the ground, well aware of the roots from whence I came. You are the freshest breath of life that I have been lucky enough to be nurtured by.
You are my mother, warrior, laughter in inappropriate moments.
You are my healer, you are the wind that blows the sea that is me , onto the shore- further each time. Destined to achieve more.
You are an ambitious icon.
You are the love that vibrates in each of my cells, you are the boldness in each step I take- affirmed and aware that rejection has no claim to me, pales in comparison to the great love I have received.
You are my mother,
Four words which will never begin to capture the power of who you are and what you mean to me.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 8:07 AM UTC
I had never cared much for astrology
Until she asked me
"which star is the brightest?"
And I realised I'd been staring into the sun.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC