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Naomi Mar 3
There are times when I embrace exhaustion as my lost love.
His indifference
His frigid kiss.
We once again retreat
into restful
Silence.

There I revive my eyes with new visions.
Switch off the white noise.
I feel new; less sunken
By the weight of all the
Politics of this self.

Oftentimes I fool myself,
I make promises
to stop short of
empty.
Futile,
I am blue garnets.


The steps to this dance
were
written
By
the
Stars.
I am a hard worker, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. It's the only time I rest, when I have no other option.
Naomi Mar 2
I push from the middle to take flight,
The World's weight dissipates
My mood shifts
And joy washes over.

Memories stretch so far,
I taste past freedoms.
Greedily, I devour

Happiness.

Soaring
My face blissful
I am connected with my girlhood.
I love my bike.
My favourite mode of transportation, my bicycle.
Naomi Mar 2
Son
The centre
Warmth that lends life, strength and purpose
My Sun
Bright; I am a flower unfurled, fragrant under his light.

My delicate dance, hard but only pressure forms diamonds on the mirror.
I see me complete in you.
This is a poem about motherhood. It is about my son and how much he means to me.

— The End —