a love poem.

- here we sit -

and one day the sun rises in the same way, but all is different.

the bed is empty and the fridge is full.

with a new four walls to contain the tears;

the little heart breaks again.

you are still right there.

but where will you land?

In this place that unfolded from pain

Here we sit.

with every reason to pick up the pieces

these broken wings do not want to fly.

is the toolbox empty or does it need dusting?

a broken heart sits in stillness.

be calm little heart.

breathe in the white space that surrounds you.

sit there. it is okay to be there.

rest your wings, but only for now.

-A.Lord.

it's autumn poetry time.

And in the fall there are cozy candlelit rooms, autumn breezes, I wear blankets and write. A sweet friend inspired this, I am grateful for this secret collaboration...

-Birds in the wind-

let us fly through this vast sea, breathing in the ocean and watch the water's sparkle ignite the waves. the magic happens in the mix of the elements, the heart dreams and the dreamer sees the space it can be trusted to. for it will reveal only truths that spin and flicker, known only to the body, where the waves have settled and reflections find themselves again. 

for it is the vastness of the sea that revels in its sparkle. white space turned dark in the hallows of the deep blue depths. questioning the folly of this act abounds the mind.

astounds. the profound wonder of the heart.

but playful beginnings bring truth. Knowledge of self. Peace.

for is this not all what we seek?

and this wonder knows peace above and below water. the sinking is as real as this movement upwards that refracts outwards towards the birds. swept up and away they glide and glisten as their shimmering feathers coo in the wind. and there is silence. and in that silence, everything all at once. the bevels of sound and magic and wonder. it is silent and sound. it is peaceful and treacherous. it is alive and deeply rooted in the earth below. the bird still soars and knows it's dream is real.

write the controversial. speak from the heart. just write.

Reading my book today " A year of writing dangerously" the author speaks about her experience of writing the controversial. Writing what she normally wouldn't for the sake of the art. She mentions the following quote, which deeply resonates with me.

"And so I began to write about the things I thought I would never tell another soul as long as i lived" - May-Lee Chai

More and more I am guided to write from the untapped burrows of my heart. The pain, the anger, the intensity. The depths I perceive and know of this life through my body. The fierce intensity of great emotion that I am so blessed to experience in this life. But where to even begin. I do write a lot of fragmented pieces of work. I write "fuck you" letters, i journal, i write my "morning pages". But it is now that I turn my focus to writing and my writing to focus that I come up against a challenge. How and what do i write about. What is my intention? Do i need to have a focussed idea for my work or do i just write?
For now i'll just write.
I'll convey my emotions through a writers lens. Onto the pages i'll pour my heart. I will write what comes.
"When we forget ourselves, when we let go of being good and settle into just being a writer, we begin to have the experience of writing itself writing through us. We retire as the self conscious author and become something else - the vehicle for self expression." -Julia Cameron.

I wrote these poems today. It's fall and cold outside...i'm cozy in my sacred writing nook.

Trusting-

finding inner stillness & the wisdom of the body

reflecting on life's path past

my heart is aching in my mind. my body can't feel it right now.

breathing in the realness of the present.

beginning again to see myself

all this work, this journey, the spaciousness is there again.

believing this is right for me right now. knowing of knowing as i feel the stillness

my body know.

trust this wisdom. dream big. let the river of my soul flow free

no dam will dampen this light. it pierces through the shadow, drys the tears of my heart and reveals no other than me. it is a beginning, another awakening.

for this i am grateful.

-Not Knowing-

it requires strength and depth

the empty cup to fill

magic happens at the heart of this

revealed is what wants to rip through

to open the gift of life

the same gift with different wrapping paper.

each paper is just as shiny even if it doesn't seem to sparkle.

life, death & the power of connection.

As the weeks have unfolded in September, the winds of change have blown into my world. The days are cooler and crisp; the nights are even colder. I reflect on some of my experiences these past months and i'm filled with gratitude. I experienced - and when i say experience, it is with the grand sense of the word - the heavy and the all encompassing life moments that give experience it's name.

I experienced the death of my grandmother. 

From her sickness, her hospital stay, the coming together of our family, her last night, and the morning I held her hand and watched her take her last breath. It was a remarkably powerful and impactful experience I will be not soon to forget.

My dear sweet Nan left her body on the morning of August 7th. And as i write that, it's almost hard to believe it's been two months past. I had taken the week before her death away from work. Intuitively I knew I must be with my family (particularity with my father) during this time...and our hospital visits and family togetherness were full of love, smiles, tears, joy and sadness. We were all there. The whole tribe. As we reached her final days we could all feel it. The last day I spent with her in laughter, I was with my cousin. The three of us messed around, told stories, rubbed an obscene amount of Nivea cream on our hands (as per Nan's request). My grandmother was a firecracker who went out with a bang - no one could ever refute this. She lived a fiercely incredible 87 years of life.

It's hard to put into words just how i felt in the moment of her last breath. I had been watching her breathing as a meditation for hours and hours that last night. I sang to her, I wrote and spoke to her and witnessed one of the most beautiful moments...my dad holding his mum's hand all through the night and into the morning...with no intention to let go. 

He and my step mother left that morning, as my uncle and auntie arrived. Something in me could not leave. There were so many reasons to go. I stayed. There was something keeping me there I can't explain. At 10am with my grandad's picture in her lap, Nan left her body. It was incredibly difficult to bare witness to my auntie lose her mother in that moment and I held her head as she cried in Nan's lap. This was a painfully beautiful moment. I knew I was there that night for my nan, telling her that it was okay to go, I was there for my auntie as nan died...and in the ripples of emotion that came as we observed her body laying cold and still I showed up in strength for my uncle. He and my father were the rocks for our family. I'd had quite a lot of time that week with my dad to be in this experience with him, but my uncle and I hadn't been in as close a communication. And as I would expect nothing less from my steady minded, courageous uncle, he was not flitted with emotion watching his "Muva" pass. In all his sadness he stood strong for my aunite, his dear partner of over 40 years.

Him and I left the room and I hugged him so tight he burst into tears. Tears I knew he had held in for strength. Tears I knew I was there that day to support. I didn't truly realize the power we hold for each other as humans until that moment. This experience lead me to write about my nan, about our family, about my deep appreciation for the journey, and for the bonds and connection we share in life & in death. I am so humbled with gratitude.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.” - Washington Irving.