I speak in two tongues and they both hiss at each other like snakes.
Tripping over my own words as my mouth becomes a battle ground.
I stand on the side-lines looking in. Waiting for the opportunity to announce my presence.
A foreigner in my motherland and a foreigner in a sea of white faces,
And I do not fit the colour scheme.

I’m a stranger, an alien, something to be prodded and poked at and made to squirm.
A minority not to be distinguished from a sea of cloth draped women.
An epitome of the strange lands of deserts and spice.
And hung above my head is a dark cloud of stereotypes and misconceptions.

The Western woman wants to fight for the freedom of the daughters of Eve,
Not understanding that her view of liberation tastes different on my tongue.
So I’m left helpless to the hot iron lens of the media, examining me like a specimen on a petri dish.

My identity, a crumbling church still worthy of all the worship.
I memorized my history books then forgot all the verses.
I grew up haunted by my ancestor’s curses.
I’ve shed so many layers of my skin attempting to fit in, now I no longer recognize myself.
I gaze into the mirror and my reflection looks away, too afraid to make eye contact with a stranger.

I am a human split in two by borders that require passports and stamps of approval.
One half of my bleeds in red, white and blue, and the other the ashes of a burning nation.
I soak up every atom in my body with a culture that isn’t mine,
And speak words that feel heavy on my mother’s broken tongue.

Embedded in the arms of parents who are too afraid to let me go, because the world is cruel to women who don’t belong.
I am like glass that has been shattered into a million pieces, and then painstakingly put back together again.
Delicate to the touch, quivering beneath broken knuckles and clenched fists.

In the back of my mind lie vague recollections of the hot marble floors of a childhood home,
Of crevices etched into unfamiliar smiling faces,
And a country which my roots have been uplifted from.

I am a kaleidoscope. A kaleidoscope of clashing colours but you, you only view me in black and shades of grey.
I question how to belong without jumping into a skin suit that’s too baggy at the sleeves, because one size does not fit all.
I don’t want to lose my morals, values and system of beliefs.
A whirlwind of obstacles surrounding me, closing in on all sides…it’s hard to breathe.

But even after multiple blows I’m still holding onto this thread of hope…and pulling.
Unravelling what’s beneath.
And when I raise my firm hands to the sky I pray,
That my wandering soul finds a place to call home one day.

I'm bleeding I'm bleeding
for the world to see
the price of my misery.
I'm crying I'm crying
and it feels so wrong
when all night long
you're looking for a place to belong.
I'm sleeping I'm sleeping
with a heart that breaks over time
so teach me a lesson give me a sign
within all the lies that you find.
I'm dying I'm dying
forget all your sins
let the ending finally begin
cause the beginning is always the end.

Your belongings (be)long to/for the materialist of Earth.
Your memories belong in the cradle of the hands of time.
Your talents belong in the rucksack of circumstance.
Your friends and family are shadows on the pavement
of the path you travelled.
Your lover belongs in the warmth of your heart.
Your bones belong with the typhoon of dust.
Your soul belongs in God's horcrux.
Your moments.
That's all that's ever yours.
Moments.

We are all pieces to this puzzle,
but there are more heartbeats
than there is audible space.

There is no mark on the skin of an outlier-
just a universal instinct to reach higher.

We'll all keep reaching for the right fit.
What happens when realizations
of isolated chairs
and echoless rooms
reach consciousness?

Will we stop reaching,
or blindly ignore truth?

Will we accept broken limbs,
or feign eternal youth?

To float or to sink-
is a truly blind way to think.

Arbitrarily,
there is universal fit
and there is
unison.

Stark blue suns are her eyes,
Set in the redden cosmos of breaking hair,
Light is caught in rings
And broke are mine as they shy from heat;
The cauldron of spheres,
That rope in the twines of constellations.

In fractals of tearing blood;
Which stream in a body so like heavens,
She plays with sprung time
And the arrow of reason is forced beyond,
Into the eyes unknowing;
How the flesh is shorn in the cloths of stars.

Such cold fire in those eyes,
Neutron blue is the inert crush of gravity;
Unloosed with surrender
And in a field of meteors lies the alchemy;
Crash of rarified metals,
She smelts of iridium blast, casts into soul.

Her eys are for makings,
Planets collide to form creations dream;
To bury sorrows in rock,
As it flows up from an orb into her mantle;
A plateau of cloud for man,
To reach birth of light, christen in goddess.

This happy land of Diemens, dogs and bush-walks,
Creative flurries, chats over beer, spag bol and chocolate.
Van trip, scoot down the coast,
Wander along the beach.

Talk of this and that, laugh
And put the world to rights.
Thrash out ideas, share some thoughts,
Wonder if living could be easier?

Two friends who shared a trip to the Beach twenty years back take stock;

And find that from start they had more in common than they knew.
Now seperated by ten thousand miles, A thousand quid and two days flying,
They're closer than they were
sat facing front in that old escort van.

Another chapter ends
Or begins
Or begins and ends.

I awake and think of boarding,
My plane.
I hadn't realised how simple it was
To just be,
To just exist side by side
With an old friend who you connect with.

No need for the usual preambles
Just straight to the core.
Don't waste time, because 20 years fit badly into five days.
And What happens if you click cancel....

before the download has finished?

I'm so reluctant to leave.
These days have been so easy and fun and blessed.
Brotherhood is hard to find
And when will I return?

A red light shines through my window
And appears on the wall across the room.
It blinks yellow and moves as the people opposite
Reverse from their drive
And head off to work.

The daylight outside is growing,
The rumble in the air is not traffic
But waves breaking on the shore
About fifty meters away.

Soon I'll get up, make tea
And we'll all go for a walk.
Me, my frind Toby, Pablo the happy staffie
And Ava the lucky foster dog,
Wandering care free along the beach
as the waves break around our feet.

A plane flies overhead. *******.
Okay I know!
All things come to an end.
And this too shall pass.
It's just I haven't often wanted to stay this much.
It's so fun here,
And life outside can be a bit full on.

Sitting in a room filled with a thousand girls
All nervous and anxious to meet their new futures
Whats your name?
Whats your major?
Normal and only inquiry asked from hesitant lips
My surroundings are wavering and changing with every second
I am a numberless count
Enclosed by hundreds
Speak to me heart, and you'll have me
Diversity, love and values matching me to my new home
The need for belonging after years of rejection
I now pledge my heart to you
To love for devotion
My days are no longer just myriad and empty
Laughter mixed with loyalty binds me to you
You are not the sun that I orbit
But the moon that shines in my darkest hours
To accept an invitation among the stars is to join a constellation of illuminated descendants that watch over and protect

sometime during the day
the sun called her
and it spoke
it came in the form of a gray butterfly
(not everything is as it seems)
and it told her how important it is
to find your dream and hold tight
cool water over her head
it told her how summer goes fast
and creating may seem silly
but only to those who don’t understand
it said in wingbeats
steady and rhythmic , “
never stop writing in the morning
but for your sake girl, get some sleep
I won’t take it personally if you don’t stay awake
just to greet me in my youth-
just as you can’t follow the light into the horizon
you cannot beat the mourning”
it said to her softly in the blinks of sapphire eyes ,  “
elephants never forget
but they forgive
spring means rebirth,
not rain to wallow in
and
weeds matter just as much as the flowers planted there on purpose
silly girl,
take a day to read
and run fast but don’t live that way
it flew away eventually
disappeared into a green tree
in a meadow of wish flowers
sometimes the best things in life are quiet


the mountain range called night
enveloped her
the stars stood still
and she thought she could fly
see what was real
why she was born
the magic sensation of belonging
the rain felt like night too
and the winter sound wasn’t deafening
it was just loud enough
to  be a favorite memory
something worth holding on to
like an alliance
how memories feel
you and me
together
against the tests of time
even when it’s standing still
the little blue house and the blue girl
one night they ran
right the way the butterfly came and went
past the green tree thicket
and the field of wish flowers
and they
never
came
back

The world outside her window is the same
Unbearably tame
Mile after mile
Tree after tree
It blurs with the sound of her heartbeat
It feels fake
Almost, as fake
As the perfect little house
And the perfect little yard
That her imperfect family resides in
That most people call home
She can't bring herself to it as she pulls off
Hurls herself through the woods
Along the thin dirt path
Up the grueling climb
To the top of the mountain
She finally pauses to breathe
As she exhales she grins
Effervescent and sighs
"Home"