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.

Restrained Teardrops.

Tears of sadness and joy

For the loss of a part of me that I held close for so long

That was integral to my being and yet never served me well

Since some long ago defence response initiated its activity

And now I let it go, simply no longer needed, simply

Never to be a part of my life again

Loss and Joy combined

Bittersweet tears sat behind my eyes, until

Your words brought clarity to my attention

I sit now, within the truth, feeling

Tears of sadness and joy

.

.

Tell me: What have you given up, that hurt?

Instagram Poets.

Photo scrolls up
A familiar style
Already I know it’s you
Hesitating to read
Knowing
Your words draw me in
Completely
Carrying away to a new place
Every time
Every moment
Not ready for this adventure
Turning off and tuning out
Your precious gift awaits
We will meet soon
When my time is right

.

[ I’ve been spending more time on instagram lately, sharing my shorter poetry with integrated visuals. It feels closer to what I’m striving for artistically. Feel free to join me there. And if you also put writing there, do let me know. I live for all your words. ]

How does it Feel?

It feels like the start of a new journey while tangled in the old one
It feels like mountain climbing and gliding down the other side in a bicycle
It feels like finding new friends and suddenly losing them again
It feels like every mistake I’ve ever made arriving at once
It feels like emotional exhaustion and fresh energy
It feels like new music and sad songs
It feels like missing meals and discovering a picnic in the garden
It feels like a new book and worn pages with turned corners
It feels like stormy winds and sunshine on my face
It feels like crying and receiving comfort from your best friend
It feels like anticipation and collapsing on the floor
It feels like fresh sheets and staying too long in bed
It feels like soft pillows and a comfy sofa
It feels like nerves before a great performance
It feels like a skin pamper and removing a splinter
It feels like brick walls and open doorways
It feels like colourful paintings and dusty old masters
It feels like lavishing attention on the cat and not being clawed
It feels like light at the end of the tunnel and minding your steps over the rocks and tracks
It feels like a triumphant fanfare over a steady drumbeat
It feels like your suggestion from last week suddenly sitting perfectly within my plans
It feels like decorating the Christmas tree and not minding the worn faded tinsel
It feels like looking at your own reflection and wanting to see where today might go
It feels like the texture of touching this sculpture and knowing it can never be moved
It feels like finally caring for yourself, no matter what happens.

Answers Come Slowly.

Answers come slowly, one at
A time
As I step forwards through
The struggle
Motivation and enthusiasm for work is
Missing because
My inner critic says that I am a failure at
These activities
While I’ve been told this is
Not so
While I’ve been explained
The reasons
Rational thought is no support at
This time
Relying on the invisible, on
Trust only
I must.

Awareness Questions in 2 Parts and A Sad Conclusion.

Standing back, to get a clearer picture of what is going on
Not yet ready to step away from it completely
Wanting to understand this territory of pain
But why?
And does that matter, does any of this really matter?
Does any of this questioning and searching serve me any more?
I notice the struggle to let go of this moment
What am I hanging onto?
Is this just fear of change, or something much more?
The current advisory is to just be with it all
Paying no mind to what can or cannot be managed on any given day
Being at ease with just needing to rest, or to just feel
Which sits very uncomfortably with me
With my need to feel productive, to feel active
Ponderous times that I must journey through
Before being able to step into the productive day
Is this moment in time the journey’s end or a fresh start?

•••

If I stop fighting (this war inside my head)
Does that mean I give up, or give in?
If I stop pushing and resisting the lies
What does that reality look like?
If I stop the active struggle, the result
Curling up in bed, withdrawing in fear
Unable to face the world through exhaustion
And inability to concentrate or function
Replacing one undesirable situation
With another.
A friend keeps mentioning acceptance
This word keeps crossing my consciousness
Imagining it might just work, I hesitate
So tired to find the energy for any action.
As a tear trickles down my left cheek
I contemplate my present, for my future.

•••

I just want future me to be happier
With life
To not be engulfed by pain
Physical and mental
It’s too late for present me
All has led to this current experience
Lost in the shroud of darkness.