My memory beats in rhythm with my heart.
Spilling out snapshot flashes of life like a flick book's muffled cries.
Controversial plastic shell, elastic strap, stick insect mattel covetted for months
until Santa dropped it down the chimney,
almost as fast as she sprogged and regained her figure
- the original scrummy yummy mummy set to spread low self esteem.

My daddy said anyone can crank out a kid like she did,
as my mother ground her teeth to protest on behalf of her traumatised frame.
Strange, I almost became one of the lost - before I grew cells and self,
another fragile foetus swinging on a noose
from gallows where once a ****** failed to stayed closed.
Little life curled tight self soothing sings al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
as I lie beneath my shroud of sadness filled with down shrinking from the light of day
I want to tell you that I love you,
that my heart brays, beats, bleets, breaks, aches for you.
My soul, spirit, self thrice chorus al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
as waters flow from deep to deep
where danger dances and solace is sought
from beyond the fruitless orchards and willows weeping
branches reaching out for you.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
surrounded by madonna, ***** and all betwixt
spheres of life protruding, pronounced, announcing themselves;
in streets where bundles, terrors, cherubs, banting, brat and bairn alike
shriek, scream, squeal, shout, squalk, squabble, sing
in a cacophony that makes my heart weep and ache in longing
to sing to self in solitude al na tivke iredem bim'nucha.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
pulsating thoughts, dreams, hopes of you through the whole of me.
Brought to my knees I seek wisdom, guidence, strength to let you go.
The river is waiting for you, you who I hold tight in my caul
trying to trust, seeking strength to hakshev le'ivshat haga'lim
holding the thought of you,
the love of you,
the hope of you
tight in my arms crooning my lullaby of lament
al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

Its my body, my money, its up to me what I do with it.
But everyone else is wearing it.
I cant help the way I feel.
Blonde
Red
Orange
Brown
Purple
DMs purple with pink laces
school skirt altered in the textile lab 3" shorter
hormones racing, zipping, vibrating, fizzing till the top pops
stairs made for stomping and storming
cackling laughter crackling down the telephone wire
clothes left on the bedroom floor abandoned for a girl crisis.

You cant read my mind
read my lips
read my body
read my journal sandwiched between the midriff covering cottons gran bought for Christmas and the skimpy lace thong I'd be grounded for buying

Mother's mattress sanitary towels tossed aside
for shamefully purchased tampons
instructions included

and time has passed
and masks have fallen
and I find you there in the muck and the mire
and dust you off
until

I see your face - all mothers lipstick and glittering pink eye shadow
and the smile that stores secrets in a treasure chest.
Your legs shake like Bambi's but you get to your feet
and nestle yourself into me warmly, strongly until you fall right into me
and you run and you run and you run and you run and you run
right through my veins
giggles throbbing through my pulse
pajama parties and homemade perfume radiating in my eyes
and there you are
and there I am.

What do you see, nurse, what's going on?
What are you thinking, when my buzzer turns on? -
desk full of paperwork growing in size?
climbing into bed and closing your eyes?
perhaps you are aching from hours on your feet?
or maybe you're desperate for something to eat?
I'm sure being overworked is something you hate,
but shouldn't you leave that at the hospital gate?
I lay here riddled with cancer, moaning in pain
wondering if you care or if I'm a drain.
I wonder if a kind hand will take mine in care,
or if I will be met with a cold stony glare.
I know you don't have time to sit by me a while,
but would it really be too much to flash me a smile?
When you come with charts and machines to inspect
is it too much to ask that you show me respect?
I know you're all human and that you feel too,
but it isn't my fault you have so much to do.
Please don't excuse yourself with the woes of your day,
I'm scared and I'm hurting as life fades away.
I spent my life teaching with compassion and care,
but this cancer it grips me, I've nothing to spare.
Some of you have the most beautiful of hearts,
but the lottery of care, it tears me apart -
I worry if a smile is the last thing I'll see
or if you'll be looking at your watch, instead of at me.
I'm probably not you're first and I won't be your last,
but I'm the only me, present, future and past.
The life I have lived is fading; death hangs overhead,
Fill my last days with kindness, for soon I'll be dead.
So return to your training, your core values, be aware
are you the nurse with the kind touch or the cold stony glare?

In the murky depths of muck and mire
hope flickers in hearts
courageous enough to believe;
sending out ripples in the waters
like a domino effect rewound.
Insignificant seedlings to the cruel eye
filled with light and promise
as yet unseen turned
Fragile sprouts in healing green
reaching up and out
to rest hopes on the water front,
as if to console one another -
we are not alone.

Against all odds, bean of India,
Keep going –
Power through the sluggish resistance
Of this darkened plane.
Though life seems lost in loneliness
Listen closely,
Hear the Whispering rumours of life beyond the deep
Of basking in light and life
beneath the welcoming heat
of a dancing sun.

A triumphant act of faith indeed,
to content oneself with growing,
never really knowing
what lies beyond the darkness.
I weep for you
with joy, O little pocket of hope
as you propel yourself forward -
such strength, such courage
for one who as yet knows not
of that rosey happiness,
that snow white purity
that lies beneath your shell.

I stand in awe of you;
You with your absurd elegant beauty
tracing your journey
accepting it as part of yourself
embracing who you once were.
The original rags to riches tale;
Roots in putrid, ravenous foundations
yet you yourself remain unstained.
The journey every bit as beautiful
as your glorious destination –

a testimony to your essential self.
I see you take up your stance
Front and centre, finally ready
to declare yourself to the world.
Budding beauty of new life
awake! open your eyes, your heart,
you dont have to hide anymore
the world is missing who you are.

And time births healing and growth.
Every flower blooms at her own pace;
Tentatively unfolding - delicate and fragile still
with gentle colours begging will I do?
Caught up in a lighter life
becoming bolder, blessed, nurtured
blooming bright, opened out
hello world, here I am.
Your wary days drowned, you claim your space,
Fill your space,
Make it your own.

The ethereal splendour of your gentle petals
Succeeded only by the loveliness within,
As you build up your legacy of hope
So wonder will not be lost in the falling petals
but made more beautiful still
in the healing gifts,
in nourishing others,
in the gifts you give of yourself
back to the world.

Ten thousand nights have laid themselves down before me
and I have played the princess in the tower oh so well.
The perfect aryan child tucked up behind veils of delusional dream,
to sleep to wander into places where damsels save themselves.
And in such splendor the masks do fall like autumn leaves,
crisp and changed - each fallen and forgotten under foot.
But hair grew much too fast beneath garments as mole hills became mountains
and irony of ironies I caught my goldie locks in a leaf covered bear trap-
ensnared in biting pain I did wait for my knight and trusty steed -
but my prince was the villain; a scenario I was unprepared for
lost in delusion while he mawled my once ivory skin,
till it bled; my blood irreparably tarnished by his seed.
And the nights kept falling one by one,
slowly to their knees or else dying a savage death by blade or flame -
and for my part I have lived them.
Unprepared for such madness, armed only with fairytales
I have fought a battle I never could win.
And the people came. I let them in, wove threads of trust, only
to taste the milk of human kindness and choke on its bitterness.
And so I shrank from the world like the tortoise to its shell
and I climbed my tower, bolted the door - I cut my hair short.
So I sit by a tiny window with animal-kind to kiss my scars.
People grab at me but I am out of reach and there I shall stay
some day the Prince shall come and from now on I will trust only in Him.

This Dalian prison feels eternal! I stretch across the bounds of matter:
A child frozen in time, an adult melting into darkness, a spirit riding the back of the wind,
and the child drives the adult to an excruciating distraction.
She pierces the heart with her screams, she will not be ignored.
I abandoned her once in the wilderness, she was damaged goods and it was life or death —
She lay weak and broken and beyond saving
I couldnt take her with me, because she looked at me with my own eyes


Except hers shone with tears and bled the loss of innocence and told all our secrets.
My conscious mind buried her there in the woods, she didnt resist.
I held her responsible for all of it, and she didnt even challenge that.
How could she let that happen to us? Fist and boot, sword and noose, slur and song - and she stopped fighting.
It took me years but one day I felt her move and knew she was alive.
Her eyes bore into me pleading me to take her back; asking me to love her.


I was afraid of her at first; of her wounds and weakness and wanting.
Her fingertips grazed mine; and the our two parts became whole
with a collosal iron clang forcing out echoes of screams cried long ago,
and they were hers and mine. We fitted into each other like russian dolls,
not neatly but with a post-war stagnant silence and scent of blood spilling still.
I tried to be with her, but her need was great —
And I knew she wanted all of me and that meant I must embrace all of her.


She wouldnt be ignored anymore, and was brutal in her attention seeking.
She forced me into her memories, our memories and left me to live what she endured.
She tried to make me see that she saved me, us, herself, but I couldnt understand
How she could torment me this way; relentlessly; painfully; vividly:
I wondered if she was taking revenge on me,
that her ghost was rattling her chains, binding me with them, drowning us both.
And for a long time the two of us tore our body apart and gave way to the weight of madness.


She vomited rainbows inside me and danced me along the cliff edge.
I breathed the whole weight of my darkest days into her till she choked,
as if I thought I could somehow **** her with toxins.
She took up blades and cut my flesh and grew more and more savage with each stroke.
And my body, our body became a war-torn country, the battleground
on which we played out the assaults of our reunion.
One day she regressed to a foetus, ******, transparent and whimpering like a wounded dog.


I saw her then, she was entirely helpless, she gave up to save us both,
And I’d been blaming her all these years, and all she wanted was to be loved —
Spending her days behind masks and dying inside,
And I had wished her dead, pretended she was dead and she let me live.
She bound and gagged herself and selflessly gave herself up for me,
And I wasted the life she gave me, repeating mistakes,
Full of bitter resentment, burning up joy like oil and wallowing in it.


I wanted still to force her out.
But throughout the years she remained and she kept me me and fighting still —
The strength that surrendered her to brutal assault,
is the same strength that keeps me drawing breath into my lungs when the darkness comes.
The waif soaked, salted, drenched clamped to my leg
was the same child who lay down and endured so that there might be light.


I regret I still blamed her, but I did so with great discomfort.
  

I imagine a time when we might be able to embrace in the light —
We are of course one and the same, ourself in different times.
I know now you cannot love with half a heart or smile with half a mouth.
She is the colour, and I am the canvas,
together we could make something beautiful and bright.
And Im listening to her cries now, sometimes I stroke her hair,
Perhaps one day I will hold her tight - then there will be love, light and life.