but,
I think it's a brave thing to do,
when you start something new.
allowing the past to assist/not lead,
admitting you're not the best/ but trying to be,
therein lies true strength/ authentic humility.
not to disrespect/ just to overcome,
the need for perfection/ the rush to get it done.
because in poetry we can say it,
in any which way we want.

What we’ve come to know
about being human
is to grow in phases
to take pain and grief
from the ends of the bookshelf
and to stir them into the atmosphere

breathing in and out
until the silence between each breath
was a bridge to relief

it was never to solve the puzzle in a day
or to sort through all the pieces in
a strategic manner
but to feel the joy of frustration
the strange joy of trial and error

they see your light
luminescent and burning with pale shades of pink and orange
they love to bask in its warm glow
but they could never sustain it so far

silly girl, always mistaking her own reflection as another's glow
when will you ever learn?

perhaps when your whole world is dim enough
and all the mirrors have fogged up
you will trace that sliver of light
on your own fingertips
in the iris of your eyes

painful, but necessary for you to finally realise
you are what you seek in everything.

You’ve wandered long through shadowed lands,
With trembling heart and open hands,
The clocks spun slow, the sky turned grey,
Yet still, you rose to meet the day.

A thousand questions marked your pace,
Who am I now? What is this place?
But hush - the wind, it softly knows,
The soul still grows, the spirit flows.

You wore your grief like autumn’s coat,
Then shed it when the spring took note.
The stars watched on with patient eyes,
As you began to reorganize.

Your path, your pace, your whispered dreams,
No longer bound to old regimes.
You dared to laugh, to love, to try,
Beneath a less familiar sky.

And though you walk with aching feet,
The journey’s song is bittersweet.
You are not lost - you’re being led,
By threads of gold the Fates have spread.

So question all! The love, the lore,
The quiet "why," the distant shore.
You’re not alone - just newly found,
Among kind hearts, profound and sound.

Step forward now with trust, with grace,
The future waits to know your face.
For all that’s past is not yet gone,
You’re just becoming who you’ve been all along.

Thursday's child has far to go.
a child borne
of beauty and grace
so much more
a pretty face
her mind usually still
calm
is wild
racing
she fights
not only to survive
to live
to love
for her right
to be a human

Thursday's child has a voice
Thursday's child made a choice
to many a persons dismay
Thursday's child decides
to stay

Thursday's child
not full of woe
unfortunately
still far to go

When water became water, not lemon and lime,
I drank for the pleasure, not to pass time.

When bread became bread, not pizza and cake,
I'm hearing my stomach, and it needs a break.

When danger becomes danger, not fear on a screen,
I stopped checking corners for foes unseen.

When fire becomes fire, not mirrors and smoke,
my friends sit together, and nurture our hope.

When food becomes famine, and future unknown,
we'll treasure our friends, instead of our homes.

These feelings flow inside me
Like the ebb and flow of waves
Sea levels keep on rising
As I struggle to grow as well

So constantly overflowing, overwhelmed
How can I hold it all in?
It's fire and not water that you can quell

Suddenly I'm out of breath
I'm sinking under water
Clutching at my neck -
I'm pulled deeper

Fire put out,
Lightless depths hold me closer.
My body lays in its clutches -
No will to hope at all.
All that's left is but cold embers,
No memory of a time where fires burned bright.

I open my eyes to the waters again,
Sway along with current,
Rise and fall with the tide,
Get a hang of it all,
Learn it all by hand.

But can I learn anything worth learning at all?

And I'll fail and learn from my mistakes
Try to be accountable for burdening others when I can't hold back
Waters turn turbulent, receding from my grasp,
Rising high,
Slamming its weight down, relentless,
My mind lost, struggling to find direction,
And I'm left trying to gather it all,
Water dispersed,
Pushing myself to reach out,
Rebuild the scattered pieces,
Rekindle what was snuffed out
With the little space I've scraped for it.

Where am I going with this all?

And I might be drowning,
With the enormity of that which I still struggle to grasp.
But slowly I'll learn to breathe this cold water again,
And hold on till the very end.

Forgive the failings of the parent, the flaws of our design.
Only if we accept our nature can we enjoy what's left of our time.

The poison left in our blood, corrosion of the self,
pain accepted as a norm, obligations on no one else.
They say the mind is the strongest prison,
walls of darkness and chasms within them,
and a fear that pain came first because pain comes always,
and as we peep out into the empty hallways
we see in their endless doors
an infinite capacity for more
and why would any weary traveller
step out into such foreboding
places to explore?

At first the poison seems for life. It runs in our blood and rains from the heights.
But nothing is without cost and the lie must be maintained.
We follow the orders held with us from the day we got our name.
But the thicker the poison and the hotter it burns, the stronger the antidote and the more we can learn.

Pain becomes progress,
a diabolical fuel,
a tool heavy to swing,
but one that will bring
greater transformation
and let's turn bad memories
into useful information.