Sometimes
all it takes,
is listening to
and empathizing with others
to realize,
no matter how real
my pain and struggles may seem,
my mind often gets the better of me
and turns mole hills
into mountains.
Tag: love
darkness chooses for me
I understand the need to look
for happiness
and that choosing it
is just that: a choice.
Despite this,
I cannot choose it easily
when all I see in front of me
is its opposite.
I settle in on the darkness
it seems,
before I even make a choice.
The darkness chooses for me,
and will not let me go.
You stay through it all
and say you love me.
watering can in a rainstorm
Like a flower trapped in dry soil
yearning for either a rainstorm
or a watering can,
you came to me
as a watering can,
in a rainstorm,
all at once.
Only you have no idea.
the one ember still alight
From the smouldering coals and ashes
deep down within me,
you found the one ember still alight
and reignited the flame.
The flickering lights in my eyes,
heat building on my skin,
sparks jumping through my heart,
you brought it all back.
Perhaps we can leave it at that,
perhaps that’s enough.
Perhaps that’s what you were meant to do
for me,
and nothing more.
Branches stripped bare
Branches stripped bare,
devoid of leaves, protection,
rustle in the breeze like a skeleton
of a former living human
rattles.
Leaves, greenery and life
will rejuvenate the branches
as will love and hope,
for you.
footsteps, furniture and new voices
The floor creaks under the weight
of footsteps, new and many.
Bodies rest upon furniture, furniture
which scarcely receives human contact.
Laughter and conversation
ring through the air,
of all ages and volumes.
Pushing us beyond comfort
for a few days
brings new appreciation for retreating
back, into routine and calm.
Despite temporary discomfort,
the footsteps, furniture and new voices
mean family and love are near.
Practice gratitude, and embrace
this chance, to fill your heart.
My memory is a peculiar thing
My memory is a peculiar thing
taunting me with the past,
focusing on loss, heartbreak and anguish
than those moments of acceptance and joy
in stark contrast.
The more I remember, the less I remember.
Memory skews the reality of what
once was, of truth.
It must view this as a game,
how far can we deviate from reality
and still make her believe,
and build her future based on these?
When memories are distorted into a
new, thwarted figure
what do I have left?
What can I believe in? Lean on?
The more I remember, the less I want to
remember.
different us.
I dreamt of you last night
or at least
I thought it was you.
Different than I remembered;
different beginning
different ending
different us.
Ah, what might have been
and what will never be.
Four years ago
Four years ago you left us
to find a brand new home,
among the sunshine, cloud and blue;
time to venture out on your own.
Four years ago you left us
I remember it like yesterday,
away from home, I got the call
that you had passed away.
Four years ago you left us
I remember our last hug,
your strong arms and deep voice both still there
that today, still run through my blood.
Four years ago you left us
on all of us, it’s been hard.
You live on and strong, now and forever;
in peppermints, baseball or a playing card.
Four years ago you left us
I still wish it wasn’t so.
But I dream of seeing you again someday
and into your arms I will go.
these hands
My, what these hands have touched,
carried
and blockaded,
held
and transformed,
prepared to hoist my body
upright off from off the floor
or raise up while my head lowers
in humility,
hold your hand, touch your face
feel your heart beat
for me, or so I thought.
They feel weathered, yet strong,
predicting the forecasted weather
ready to protect me.
I look down to admire
the scars, calluses and salted stains
that you helped to put there
and I thank you
for my hands are now ready
for any battle.
Dawning Words 