Bone china teacups…

“I am pure light, not just a fistful of clay. The shell is not me. I came as the royal pearl within. Look at me not with outward eye, but with inward vision of the heart; Follow me there and see how unencumbered we become”…
― Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

It’s been a grueling affair,
trying to be someone
I’m not,
holding my tongue…
I quietly explode
in this kind of pomposity,
when my voice is drowned out
by meaningless rhetoric.

I was always a nobody,
a dreamer,
and nothing has changed!

There are no achievements
to brag about,
no new additions to show off…

Just the dull ache of life,
the one foot in front of the other
kind of scenario,
a life needing only to be endured…

Like the last breath of sacred air
having confession…

The plagues have taken me
to dark places,
eaten me alive.

I’ve fallen
into a slow decline,
and a longing to be expunged
from the earth.

I’m a prosaic narrative of the “waking dead”…

But when I change direction,
I swing into timeless zones
places where apparitions comb the darkness
and light-filled souls hold me,
speaking only in dialects of kindness…

I’m comfortable there,
singing my anthems,
talking to ghosts.

I don’t need approval,
just the serenity of being,
to have sunlight by day
and starlight by night…

bone China teacups don’t make me feel stronger,
they are just pieces
that gather dust in the silence,
mere frivolities to collect
and be admired by few…

representations of such fragility that I cannot bear to hold…

I wondered then
if you hear me
above
your own thoughts,
or see me through your impressions?

I felt diminished,
unstable,
defective,
groundless in my own being
conversant
with dysfunction…

But I’m weary now,
weary of the pretense…

I could tell you so much,
if only you put aside your preconceptions.
I could show you the brutality
that broke me open,
that tore the flesh
from my bones…

giving me visions of another world…

I could also tell you of bravery,
of seeing
of believing in magic.
I could take you to a place where the dead are alive,
and the veil is lifted…

a place of signs and wonders,
unimaginable colors,
vibrations of love,
no talk of death…

Just magical vistas as far as the eye can see…

Mystics tell of these cosmic landscapes
and I believe them…

But I’m just the dull little girl that you remember,
the underachiever
and I can’t seem to change the voice
on the self-drive…

I’ve needed your approval for way too long,
longer than any life could bear…

So if you find me silent,
almost withdrawn,
it’s because I’m protecting my heart
from the savagery of my own thoughts…

You see I’m scarred and bloody
in need of belonging,
and maybe a vacation…

I’m made of stardust and the boundlessness of light,
just like you!!

 

Merciful light…

“Your body is woven from the light of heaven.
Are you aware that its purity and swiftness is the envy of angels
and its courage keeps even devils away.”
― Rumi

You touched me
with
your merciful light,
when weariness
set in
and I took fright…
You stood
beside me
through my fears,
rebuked
the darkness,
collected my tears…
And the inspiration
of heaven’s glow,
breathed in
an aura
of infinite flow…

 

Mojito Skies…

Skies sparkle
like pink champagne,
with hints
of peach
and vanilla sorbet…

An effervescent sunset
of lemonade,
shimmers with luminosity
unrestrained…

summer breezes whisk me away,
on melanges
to celebrate…
with sleepless dreams
of Sundays,
reflections rise
like baked souffle…

mojito skies
and crisp cocktails,
intoxicated by the details…

 

All Hallow’s Eve…

I have always been fascinated by the history of Halloween…
“It originated with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III designated November 1 as a time to honor all saints; soon, All Saints Day incorporated some of the traditions of Samhain.”

It’s starting to gain some popularity here, in the Southern Hemisphere,
though it be our Spring… 🙂

It’s not so dark
on Halloween,
the leaves don’t fall
and the trees stay green…
as we wait for souls
to descend,
we play the game of “let’s pretend”…

this hallowed ground
rises up to greet,
the apparitions we long to meet…
we call to the dark
when the veil thins,
will we be punished for our sins?

dress me up
in holy attire,
that I may be your heart’s desire,
bring me blessings,
bring me treats,
I want to join this hallowed feast…

to dance with hobgoblins
and sorcerers,
in eerie forests
down corridors…

bar the windows dim the lights
ghoulish impressions will suffice…

as shadows cavort with ghosts,
under my breath
I hiss secret oaths…

“it’s the eve of all saint’s day when mere mortals
go out and play”…

image courtesy of PixaBay
©AllysoAlly2019

Reflections…

“Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world awaits.”
― John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

If the sky was made of ground
and you saw the world
upside-down,
would you begin
to feel the magic,
would life still be as tragic?

If love was everywhere,
and all hearts became aware
that joy moves
as it pleases,
would you ever need a reason…
to believe
the stars shine
just for you,
and the elixir
of morning dew
is nature’s skillful remedy,
that restores our serenity…

if you saw reflections
in the Lake,
would you know that
there are no mistakes…
would you
join in
the applause,
of being utterly adored,
and let love bestow a harmony,
a resonance
that can set you free…

©AllysoAlly2019

 

 

sticks and stones…

“I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.”― Rainer Maria Rilke

Her eyes were dry now,
the remembrance has softened
but words still dropped-in
unexpectedly
breaking her
like stones
upon her heart,
wounding her with doubt…

she wanted to erase the words altogether,
the emptiness that had pressed in on her
making her feel foolish…

she wanted to walk again
down mystical roads
with robins leading the way…

she wanted to go to sites where butterflies land
in the late afternoon…

she wanted flowers to remind her of truth,
she wanted to stare
at the skies
until it colored her breath…

for she desired to speak in the language of shadows
of light
of love
of secret things
and of other-worlds,
until she was fully understood,
one with all that is…

Art by elsire roos
©AllysoAlly2019

The chasm…

“Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.”
― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

For a moment I was afraid,
was all this just my imagination?
Those voices in my head,
did I make them up,
those times when I felt his presence?

“He’s not sending signs!”…she implied

“But I keep seeing butterflies
and I feel him all around” …I thought

“There’s a chasm between us,” she said
“meant to keep the dead apart,
it’s in the bible,” she coldly remarked…

“Well,” I whispered under my breath
so that she could not hear…

“I’ve crossed the greatest chasm of my life,
I’ve stumbled and fallen,
feeling my way across utter darkness
and despair.”

“In desperation
I drowned in grief
cutting myself to pieces
on shards of heartache,
I was split wide open
and I bled out.”

And when I got to the other side
he said…
“ I was always right here
beside you, Mom,
helping you bridge the veil
between my world and yours,
and I held your hand,
because I knew you had to take this journey
through the darkness of grief
and I didn’t want you to take it alone!”

“and I rejoiced when you saw my
color in the skies
and hundreds of butterflies”…

and then he declared…
“I’m more alive than I have ever been!”