I'd rather have scars
than tattoos.
Your relationship with scars is different,
natural. Scars are not obnoxious -
They tell a story that no ink could.
And gradually,
they fade.
Quiet, but still there, until
you don't need them anymore.
The little reminders they sent you
over the years
have become part of you now,
absorbed into your skin.

It's funny how now we're torn
apart - other ends of the world,
or the street -
we've never felt closer.

Suddenly every glimpse
of a familiar face,
every voice through a shaky line,
glows with light only visible
in such darkness.

Amidst the icy fear and closing doors,
I've grown warmer;
Loneliness has filled my heart with love,
love that pours out to those with whom
I've shared but a few passing words.

Through our walls of separation
far from the reach of any human touch,
we still embrace.
We hold on tighter than ever before,
because in these times we are grateful
for each other. Nothing more.

We lock ourselves in happy prisons,
And keep to those with similar crimes.
We plaster up the windows
And soundproof the walls,
No reason to engage with the outside.

And even when the shutters open,
Our eyes close to the light,
The light that exposes
our ignorance,
To the reality of many other lives:

To the suffocating smoke from burning forests,
And the families torn apart by war,
The young girls chained to wedding vows
And the chorus of starving children’s calls.

7.5 billion humans walk this planet,
None of us the same.
Some of us have been here for decades,
Others just arrived,
Some are men,
Some are women,
And some are what they feel is right.

But together we are one race;
Our differences don’t make a difference.
We will not be defined by our gender,
By our religion,
The colour of our skin,
Our history or
Our capabilities.

In our hearts our mission is shared,
And these distinctions are not a barrier,
or a wall.
They should not segregate us,
But celebrate us,
And build a stronger opposition to our troubles.

In extinguishing the forests’ flames
So they can pass their wisdom to the future,
In welcoming those in need of aid
With open arms to their values and their culture.

In loosening the shackles of injustice
And protecting every worker’s rights,
But more importantly than anything,
In opening our doors and our minds.

We cannot live in darkness,
When there’s a world worth saving in our sights.
Together, we can chase the freedoms
On the horizon

And all you have to do
Is turn on the light.

I like it better when some things go
unanswered.

In this endless drone of facts and figures,
there's not a lot left to solve.
True mysteries are precious,
not a threat to the world

So let your mind rest at ease -
Why the need to know it all?

I'd really rather you didn't tell me.

The ringing from the piano fades,
as I watch the dance of my trembling fingers
come to a halt.

I thought I wanted to sing
but the melodies are trapped in my throat,
and soulless

Then the notes begin to slide down the page,
no longer able to compete with the
Suffocating silence

Sadly,
Toxic people are like weeds
in some ways.
You have to cut
all their roots from
your garden or
they'll just keep coming
back.

It's beautiful when
you find that dusty corner
in your memories

Can't you see what they're doing
As they fly high, setting their harsh beady eyes
on the desperate and vulnerable?

They pick on those so blinded by fear,
littering the skies with their lies
Watch as they fuel their prey with rage
Just to light fire for their own selfish pride.

So cover your ears when you hear
their siren-screeching;
It's nothing but a false alarm.

If we can't expose these toxic creatures,
all we'll have left is an endless debt
of broken promises, scars.

Everything has lost its colour,
Even on the sunny days.
I'm almost certain that the lake used to be bluer,
that your eyes used to burn brighter.

Perhaps it's just a blurry lens,
But I fear my vision's changed

I wish I was afraid of heights.
Or guns, or spiders. Anything.

I don't even look
both ways when I cross the road,
anymore.
If I get hit,
No loss, no gain.
Anyone reading this would think I'm insane

But I am scared of one thing -
Terrified.
And that's my own name.

If you really knew me,
Maybe you'd see,
Through my drowsy blue eyes
Into a raging sea.

Like crows, your sight flies
to the sparkling sheen coating my irises,
The glimmer of a thousand tiny pearls.

But they are a legacy,
Far too romantic for the tidal wave that
Dumped them in my world.

A willow tree hides
at the edge of the orchard,
Streams of withered leaves
veiling its stooping trunk.

Struggling to survive,
Its roots are sparse and fractured,
And its brittle branches snap -
At the lightest gust.

All will for life,
Seemingly ******
Into the soil.

But within the crumbling walls of bark,
Its rings of wisdom lie.
Tales of brutal storms surpassed,
Etched between the lines.

They are not scars,
but stories.
Of ancient solitude, distress,
Yet the labyrinth of spirals
guides the way to peacefulness.

As the days grow shorter and
the dew begins to run,
The branches are stripped
of their facade.

No leaf will ever live to see
All corners of the sun,
But the dusty inner halos
will still glow beneath the bark,

Endlessly.

Eternal beauty;
always found
at the heart
of a willow tree.

Trapped long enough
and the outside becomes a blur.
There's life beyond these walls,
But nothing left in my world.

If I could just recall
The sun's warming touch,
Or a child's beaming smile,
Perhaps I'd find a reason to keep going for a while.

But here there's only dark;
The world and I, miles apart,
Emotions numbed and reality crushed
Time swings to the heavy beat of my heart,
Slowing.
And I hear the last bolt slam shut -
This meaningless existence,

Closing.

Emptiness.

On the floor in the dark room,
Paralysed.
The occasional lightbulb flicker
Brings some hope back to my blue-glazed eyes,
But it's a mere distraction.

I imagine that the lightbulb can see;
Awake when it's shining,
Otherwise asleep.
In the light I seem free,
My body moves. My voice, it speaks,
Speaks like the one it once belonged to,
Before the locked room lost its key.

The bulb will never see
The ******* the ground,
Or the shelves that collapse
Silently, as tears tie her down.

So why am I surprised,
That the lightbulb never stays?
Through its eyes, the room is a palace
With a princess, troubles seemingly erased.
How would it know of the dungeon
That is formed where she lays?

Darkness, once more.