Posted in Old Photographs, story of me, Thinking out loud

Wordy Wednesday

The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb
― Pink Floyd

dont call me bitch

when i was a child you said some words,
now i know,
it seems absurd,
but on that day,
i changed forever
perhaps i should’ve just said
but i let it grow into my bones,
those words stung
when i was alone,
you never knew the harm you did,
i was just a defenceless kid!

but i grew to believe those words,
a thing you shouldn’t
say to girls,
and now i am grown,
what can i say,
in remembrance of that hurtful day.
I’ll shout it out….
“I’m not a bitch!”
even scream it
at fever pitch!

i remember the trees crumpled in shame,
when you called me,
disparaging names!
forgiveness has always been my quest,
but never say,
those words
in jest…..


Posted in a remembrance, story of me

Keep showing up….

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.”
― Brené Brown

aspect serene

From quagmires of pity, I will emerge,
silent revelations,
petitions are heard.

A wretched exile,
on uninhabitable shores,
forsaken locations,
may my soul be restored!

Can I brave the affliction
that has submerged my being,
and find other directions, with authentic meaning?

They say I have courage,
but I feel
somewhat weak,
on dark and dismal days,
I’m overwhelmed and bleak!

When I can’t see
the wood,
for the majestic trees,
I surrender my fears,
and fall to my knees

I will keep showing up and let myself be seen,
in transformed aspects
of endowments serene…


Posted in story of me

I’m Human

“We are star stuff harvesting sunlight.”
Carl Sagan

I'm human
I’ve known a place where lies
were born and lived
in deep remembrance.
It was a place too fearful for expression.
It required perfection,
it demanded falsehood.
Looking good was more
important than being human.
It was a place of hypocrisy
and truth was buried in deceitful graves.

I ran from that place
and found my own vulnerability,
my own dark cave of humiliation.
Pretence had weighed too heavy
and had eaten me alive.
I grew to know my imperfection.
I was flawed beyond reason.
I lived like a death row inmate
waiting to end the misery
of my defective identity.
Perhaps I did die
to that false self
to those destructive beliefs
I’m in love with truth
I celebrate imperfection
I embrace vulnerability.
I think
I’m actually


Posted in story of me


Secretly, she knew
that he wasn’t good for her!
In a moment,
in the blink of an eye,
on the first encounter
she knew!
Deep in her psyche,
inside her substance
she felt apprehension.
But she ignored
the warnings,
she quieted the small voice,
the voice of reason.
She wanted him,
she ached for love.
She wanted to prove
that she was lovable.
How foolish she was,
how idiotic
to believe at nineteen
that he was her last chance
for love!

They cautioned her about him,
her friends,
She saw the look
in her family’s eyes,
she saw their concern,
their dismay.
Some said
he was a womanizer.
She didn’t want to believe them.
She imagined,
even fantasized
that her love could change him,
and make him a better person!

In the beginning
he pursued her
like a valuable treasure.
He was attentive
and kind.
He showered her with adoration,
but his charm
deceived her.

She lived in a make-believe world,
ever hoping
that he could change.
Intoxicated by infatuation,
beguiled by his charm.
She was mesmerized,
as though he had done some incantation
to trap her!

His fondness for her
faded quickly,
after their wedding day.
He threw her aside
like an unwanted thing!
She was no longer
the object of his affection.
His aloofness
wounded her,
damaged her.
“How could life be so cruel?”
she thought.

Her dedication to him
was meaningless,
He flaunted his women before her.
Her allegiance
started to fade,
and eventually
The abandonment became too heavy.
She knew
she needed to escape
the torment.

“Could this really be love”
she wondered,
when they finally parted ways.
His vanity and philandering
had destroyed
what little trust she had.
The marriage she had hoped to save,
and fought so hard for,


Posted in dance, Poetry, story of me

Carefree dancer

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”
George Bernard Shaw, Immaturity

no-wordsTake me back to a time and place
when I believed in magic
and heavenly dreams
covered my landscape.
When fairies lived at the bottom of my garden
and songbirds whispered sweet symphonies
in my ear.

Can I go back before harsh words
changed who I was.
I know there is a prayer in me
to forgive those who wronged me.
The sugar plum fairy
is dancing into the present day
entering my awareness.

I must not compare myself to you,
like once I did!
Comparison mocked my identity.
It’s pathology had evil intent!
Will you let me be me?
Whatever that is?
Strange and exquisite
Silent yet beckoning

I hear the birds calling me back to silence
they detect my racing heart.
The trees adorn me with their glory
and my breath again, is stilled.
The grass tickles my tenderness
and spiders jump about.

Will you be silent with me and say no words
just sit and watch the sun move across the sky.
Do you have time to gaze on carefree flowers?
I don’t need your words
or your intensity.
Can I decree right now that this
dance with silence will heal us?

I’ve been in a place where darkness saturated me.
Woeful inscriptions were written
on the walls of the hell I once lived in.
I prayed for death,
supplications sustained me.

You were not there in the midst of my suffering.
I found isolation more comforting.
Though you saw my devastation from a far way off,
I shut you out.
You see, I had so much shame contained in me
that it had overwhelmed me.
An ocean could not contain the shame I felt.

Should I clothe myself in contrition
when the tentacles of shame spread
their malignancy across my being
and infect my heart?
Bitterness has occupied the deeper parts of me
but I’m refusing it entry
refusing its dominion,
even though it has knowledge of a secret access!

Just walk with me a while
and say no words.
Breath in the silence.
Feel the warm drops of rain wash away the malice
and bathe us in enchantment.
Let the gentle breeze banish fear.

Come with me to a place
where the pain first began?
Are you brave enough to delve into the darkness with me
and go to the place where I first hated myself?
It was a time of innocence
when they said I should be more like you
and I couldn’t be,
even though I really, really tried!
Parental suffocation changed
the substance of who I was!

Will you hold that despair and longing for a moment
and let it occupy your understanding
then set it free!
Can we just go back in time and let
this little sugar plum fairy
dance once again
into mystical radiance.

So that when I wake up tomorrow
despair will be a distant memory
thrown out beyond the constellations!
Let me take occupation, away from harm
and begin to recognize the glistening
in fragments of light
and embrace the soft and pleasing parts of me.
My fragrance will multiply in the sunlight.

Murmuring will be no more
and the sobs that once racked my isolation
will be absorbed into the stratosphere.
Bitterness will turn into frolicking
I’ll pirouette into significance,
no more an invisible dreamer.
My torment will become sweet prayers
of thanksgiving.

Can we repose in the forest a while;
I won’t need your words.
Let the green covering of moss be our comforter
and the trees our canopy
as we listen to the tree frogs call
and watch the beams of sunlight
dance among the foliage.
Together we can consume the extravagance
of the Universe.

I desire to put away childish things.
I wish sorrow to be expunged from my presence.
I want laughter in my core
and joy in my sinews.
Will you celebrate my coming out of shame,
the shame that stole my existence?
I will frolic with you into the translucent light
of our understanding.
Words cannot
explain this movement……


Posted in Poetry, story of me

The thief of time!


I’m actually an Artist,
you probably can’t tell.
I’ve let my paint brush dry up.
almost sounded its death knell!

I’m picking it up tomorrow
is what I always say,
procrastination is my forte,
I’ve used up all leeway!

Watch this space in future,
call me to account,
I’m distracted by so many things
an infinite amount!

I’m writing a book to satisfy
the restlessness of my soul.
I know not where it’ll take me,
I haven’t done a toll.

I love walking in the garden
and watching flowers grow.
The housework is the worst task,
I do it terribly slow!

Then there’s washing on Mondays
and going to the store,
I’m sure there’s more to life than this,
what an awful bore!

Though existence can be quite mundane,
there’s so much to enjoy.
It’s the little things that matter,
and just being the real McCoy!


Posted in story of me

Touching the light


“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
Mary Oliver

I once stood alone on the outskirts of hope
and lived on the open plains of desolation.
I was almost afraid to breathe.
The pain was too deep to feel or even mention.

My vantage point was on the edge of the universe
where light touches darkness.
I prayed for strength.
I prayed for a tomorrow that contained hope.
Pieces of me floated in outer space
as if I had been blown apart.

I tried to bring myself back to earth
and listen to happiness and try to feel it.
My vigil was watching the light
though hope faded in weariness
when day became continuous night.

I stood brokenhearted on the shores of yesterday
and I could not hear the ocean.
My being was motionless
and a dull ache of sadness had paralyzed me.

I longed to lie down in green pastures
and watch as light overcomes darkness.
The comfort of peace was unknown to me.
I wondered if sorrow was eternal.

My vantage point had obscured my vision
and blindness was my thinking.

Then a shift silenced my fear,
and I soared beyond the heartbreak.
I saw a destination where hope
was more than just a daydream.
Not the kind of hope
where ships laden with treasure come in
or brokenness is non-existent.

It’s a place where peace passes understanding,
a tangible hope that exists
on an otherwise broken planet.
It’s present moment awareness.
The removal of over thinking and self condemnation.
A touch of the divine within.

It’s the stars that make the night magnificent
and the sun’s eternal and overwhelming warmth.
It’s the freedom of overcoming
and the healing touch of nature.
It’s the power greater than myself
that restores my sanity.

But mostly it’s infinite and divine love that covers me
and bears all things in patience and kindness.
It’s the kind of love that brings me into consciousness,
and touches the core of my existence.

Celestial beings hold my anguish now
and my tears have been kept in a jar.
Even when I spin out of control
and my flesh is a burden,
the divine tenderly enfolds me in a loving embrace,
and I’m letting go,
I’m surrendering….