A moment of Carolina in Silence.

Silence spoke
Whispering in her usual tone
Of quiet places and
Welcome comfort
Releasing those clanging heavy chains of everyday
Until you slip into welcome peace
Amongst the calming aroma of herbs and spices that surrounded your head in Autumns past
Listen deeply
Let her words carry you into the heart of freedom
Easing the vessel of your being to a new state
Where we rest with impunity.

«Carolina»

===

Carolina was talking to me on the train home. I was listening to music so pulled my headphones down to hear what she was saying.

I had seen her give a handful of change to a homeless guy who was walking through the carriage asking out loud for just an extra dollar. There was something in her face and her presence, an energy that I connected with on some level. 

She was talking clearly, but I struggled to understand through the African-American accent and slightly incoherent concepts. But she was kind and I listened, smiled and gave her my full attention over the train noise. 

I asked her name. Then told her I would name this poem I just wrote after her. 

Suddenly my stop came up and we both got off the train. After we walked some meters on opposite sides of the platform, I stopped, turned and waited while she lay down her bag and bunch of flowers on the slatted bench seat to wait for the connecting train. I asked how was her reading? She said good, so I offered the chance to read the poem I named for her. 

Carolina looked at my phone and read my poem out loud, perfectly clear and with understanding. I sensed she appreciated it but was perhaps slightly bemused by this unusual experience. 

She grabbed her pen and started tagging the steel posts with “TO SEM”. The meaning of these words, over and over, was lost to me. 

Turning and leaving, I smiled over this interaction with a stranger. I don’t know just how much we connected, and whether she will remember the poem a stranger gave her on a train. I wonder whether she will be ok in time, not that she wasn’t during this shared time, but just because I care. 

Carolina took a little part of my heart that I willingly offered her. And I wonder whether maybe the world will be just a little brighter because of this.

Constant Doubts.

I’m talking directly to you today. I need straight answers to straight talk.

Why do so many humans (still) feel alone? Good people. Liked by others. Personable. But seeming, in some abstract way, to not fit in. A feeling of never quite connecting with others. Not invited to join in. Never a “best friend” always an “acquaintance”.

I know these are insecurities. And I suspect untruths. Talk to me. I need to hear your story. Whether you agree or think differently. I need to know if you feel the same. If you have honest observations of me. If I misunderstand the world around me. 

I need to hear others’ truth.  What will you say to me?

Relationship Translation.

  
I don’t want what life brings
The hollowness of everyday-ness leaves me empty
My heart and soul need to be engaged
Meaning can’t be manufactured
Connection evolves from being-ness
Real-ness from open-ness
Vulnerability and honesty combine
You leave open a space that I fit into
And we both recognise the sound of this moment

(16 October 2015)

A Statement, A Question, A Response.

 

THE VANISHING
You disappear
and I don’t know how to reach you
I don’t know what to say
to open up the connection
that I need to feel
I need something more real
than the everyday
when you hide away.

NO TRUST, NO LOVE
Why do you fear
not meeting my expectations?
Why do you fear
a failure in my eyes?
Have I not shown you
enough love over twenty years?
Don’t you trust me
to love you no matter what?
I want to keep loving you
But I can’t love half a person;
That half I love even more
That you keep hidden away.

PROLOGUE
This is me reaching out
This is me trying to connect with you
through all my discomfort and anxiety
This is me being as honest as I can
This is me hoping you understand
This is me hoping communication works
Because if it doesn’t
If you can’t open up
and reach back with your entire soul
I will continue as I am
Feeling little from you
So making up my own feelings
from my hurt and despair.

Life, interrupted…

Oftentimes
  you just don’t feel connected
  to the people around you.

Separatism keeps us apart.

It’s the crazies
  you feel comfortable with,
  because we are all that little different,
  that little darker and more sensitive.

Maybe we’re not all that different
  it’s just the crazies let you see
  that they feel as strange as you
  while most others try to hide it.

All That Mattered.


[ I decided to have a go at illuminating the text of this poem I wrote. In the end I scanned my two drafts drawn with artist fine-tip felt pen on paper and made adjustments on my computer. Then coloured the background using a phone image app. Happy with the final result, mostly hand work and a little computer finishing off. ]

Original text.

A Dream of Touch.

I want touch to be common
and of the particular moment.

I want touch to come with a special look from you deep into my eyes.

I want touch to come out of nowhere
and surprise me with its warm connection.

I want you to respond to my touch
to reflect back the love I freely give.

I want to watch the sunlight dance
between our touching hands.

I want to investigate touch;
to start from nothing
test the shortest fingertip contact
feel the electricity of connection
let it grow as we discuss what is happening what we feel, what we imagine
let it end for now, or let it consume us.

I want touch to be a language
both a living conversation
and a silent communicator between us.

I want touch to be a healer,
a joiner, a comfort

I want touch to be excitement
I want touch to be reassurance

And if darkness keeps us from touching
I want us both to understand
and find the words to fill in for touch.

I want you to feel my touch
and for me to feel your touch
like the only link keeping us alive.

I want touch to be a daily reminder
of the wonder of life
and the wonder of us.

establish touch (Reblog)

Beautiful. A perfect description of slowing down, with the perfect reasons to.

My Ink-Stained Heart

Stop moving.

Sit still.

Let me touch your hair.

Let me hold your hand.

Don’t rush.

Hold on.

Run your hand down my side.

Run your eyes down my face.

Keep calm.

Stay here.

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