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 20h
Bekah Halle
Mosquitoes are
Pesky, little blood suckers
Aren't the ones meant to be eating tonight?!
They weren't on the invite list,
But alas, they crashed the party
And gave me more love bites
Than I bargained for.
They outnumbered the guests,
And at my behest, I shut the party down.
I heard ‘Pink!’ protest: “Nooo, get the party (re)started!”
So, I did spray, lavishly, a perfume of aeroguard,
but all that did was send shards of poison
in the air and me gasping.
O mosquito, this is no ode to you,
But an antidote to the hot air, mine
and sister summer.
Awkward and lanky,

not a boy and not yet a man.

Youth, litheness; potential

and yet, still teachable.
my old photographs hang
on a wooden frame, found
on the lawn of a house
whose man has no name.

do we still print photographs these days,
or just keep them on our phones?
I don't. We take them, edit them,
and make them into something we can clone.

photographs, something I prize;
the whole journey of discovery,
timings: early morn or sunset,
capturing moments of gratulatory,

but I don't take many now,
why? where has my love escaped?
do I now just capture them with my eyes?
have I hung those dreams too, where my lost hopes are draped?
every minute of every day
I keep looking
over my shoulder,
wondering if today's the day,
you're going to say
goodbye.

goodbye.
door shut, don't even try.
and as I keep chasing
down the shadow,
I lose who I am
even to try, again.
he was looking at them
searching for answers
but all he could see
was their vacancy;
their eyes hollow and shallow,
he ceased.
his dreams evaporated,
and his spirit deceased.
When I asked my mum
What she sees when she looks at me,
She gently replied: “My girl!”
Such warmth filled my heart.
With those words,
Such a visceral response received.
Is that what truth and joy feel like?
Love.
 Dec 12
Bekah Halle
A thought just came across my mind...
What am I worrying about?!
I am alive and living,
Yes, there are threats all around,
But I am not under threat.
I am not at war or in war, causing me to sweat,
Like many civilians around the world...
MANY CIVILIANS vulnerably unfurled.
Yet a war wages within,
Daily, hourly, minute by minute.
So stop this combat zone, dim it.
Don't think,
But do. Do love;
Loving-kindness to myself and above.
And others whom I meet
to stop the violence in the street,
And the traumas falling at my feet.
 Dec 10
Bekah Halle
Come,
Dip your toes in,
Delight in the silky cold
That refreshes both
Body and spirit.
Notice how your breath
Gasps, reciprocally stiflingly 
and in liberation.
Come and enjoy
The simplicity.
 Dec 9
Bekah Halle
the tears are deep,
deeper than my skin.
they come up from the deep,
fears and lost dreams from within.
the tears that come
from all the lives not taken,
the tears are cries
from all the paths mistaken.
the tears were all
the dreams I've shaken
and nothing comes from
but only depression was awakened.
but then the tears were a release
from all the sorrows brazen.
 Dec 9
Bekah Halle
The scent of the garden,
Left its traces on my hands,
As I danced around pulling weeds
and disposing of them in bands.
 Dec 6
Bekah Halle
To survive?
Or thrive?
Is the goal the drive, or a means
To an end?
What end?
What's propelling you forward,
Is it social, political, economical?
Or some other reward?
You are more,
So open your eyes and explore,
Your heart... soul;
Let your spirit soar to that goal,
Higher, seek the ends of the earth for more;
Your core.
 Dec 5
Bekah Halle
Rome wasn't built in a day;
Life isn't a task to be ’completed’
Puzzles are to be enjoyed,
Complexities marvelled at,
One bite-size at a time.

As I de-program to reprogram,
The big picture held
Open-handed, eyes wide, spirit ready, mouth agape to wield
The mysteries deposited, and
The rich tapestry revealed.
 Dec 5
Bekah Halle
We miss take many steps, opportunities and decisions,
All throughout our day,
Shall we see them as demon disasters? Or hidden
Gems along the way?
Even today, mistakes were made,
And regrouping, re-evaluating and redirecting were essential, I’d say.
If I decide they were wrong and a waste,
I’d be in a spin, and Miss Perfectionist would get a wealthy pay.
But, if I choose, they could instead be wisdom pearls,
In which to collect and treasure where they lay.
Then I could re-take, learn and grow,
And I’d stay, not run away, enjoy and play.
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