The child in me asks
Will we ever find passion
She had big dreams
and was determined to aim for them.

The adult me feels sad
She doesn't know what to say
How do you explain pain,
How do you explain disappointment?

Office is a place

of meeting where people talk --


and that creates work.

These are caring days.

We eat, we work and we bath --


These are perfect days.

At times I wish I didn't care
and didn't feel anything too deep
but if i refused to care at all
I wouldn't be here, I wouldn’t be me.

Many things I see, I find pre-defined
A darkness is left, the kids aren’t alright
Yet within the chaos, the shot of hope gleams
A chance for redemption, before the final dream.

My love unveils both joy and sorrow
A kaleidoscope of emotions for today and tomorrow
Even in depths of despair, resilience rises
Shadows and trials end with silver-lined surprises.

To feel deeply is my way to truly live
A tapestry weaves the stories I have to give
For even in shadows, my light does grow
My heart guides me to what the truth knows.

So I seek to embrace the highs and lows
Through my rivers of tears, a garden grows
In vulnerability, I find a reality
Worthy of bonding with all humanity.

When the flesh is tired, the spirit will move on
So, work young one
Work
Work while you still have the strength
Today you can, tomorrow you may not
The spirit still abides
So work

White notions of superiority
Blessed under white lights
Souls sold
Between punched holes
Ring binders brim-full
***** overfills
Scripted words
Meals of rotten platitudes.

Here is my grateful smile
Here is my pleated skirt
Here is my servitude

clipping a trail
  through the un-mown grasses of prehistory
i am reduced and nuded 
  by the buoyant vat   of sky baby blue

the grasses seed the heels of my work clogs
spiking sensory jabs through my socks
      a shy petting of pain

with the prow of my stride
  tiny residents vault scut and flutter
neatly evading   un panicked

radiating wet heat raises to my waist
i stop my destructive wading
i am slit, vulnerable and fed
i am primitive and free
i have membership
my uniform   banished

i take in a humid breath

about face
       and the illusions are switched
the buildings icon dominates
       and draws my responsibility
i can smile at the wash of life
       and reinstate myself in paid labour

For what is work?
To be complete.

What is strength?
The death of defeat.

Love, as well,
Is to rest one's feet.

Forces and their ends
Must meet.

Then I ask you,
What remains past death
A worthy edifice to seek?