I know, I really know

I know why the caged bird sings
Why its wings flap intermittently
Why it cranes its neck in anticipation
Sharp beak darting to and fro
Ever vigilant
Always ready
To spread it's wings and go diving
Curling through the open door
Soaring out into the air
And beaming ever upwards

I know why the caged bird sings
As the sun's rays gleam along metal bars
The lattice and framework creating a glittery web
A mesh of shimmering steel
Interlocking seamlessly from prism to prism
Creating the illusion of a lacy bodice
Draped seductively over the bird's delicate breast

I know why the caged bird sings
As night turns to day
And the winds drive in rain
Which soon dries in the midday sun
Why the caged bird tweets about peace
Chatters gleefully and thankfully for it's life
Why even though born in a cage
It's lifelong persistent desire
Is a life beyond the bars

I know why the caged bird sings
To soothe our thoughts and anxieties
To pierce the deepest tension and conjure up  tranquility
Eyes ever fixed on the little portal
The gateway to unknown freedom
Where in an instant and flurry of feathers
It can be transformed
Like a moth into a butterfly
Before flitting prettily off into the realm of freedom

Shadows

One foot in front of the other
I watch my feet gobbling the pavement
I'm going forward
Trying to get ahead
And at the same time moving away
From what lies behind me
Stuck in the past
No longer threatening me
But trapped in ghostly whispers
Which loom in shadows behind me

As the sun beats down relentlessly
Slanting forms  lean lazily
On the concrete all around me
Forming jagged ,criss cross patterns
As they form a confusing web
Linking in and out of each other
As they stretch and twist
Spelling out my life
With its raging conflict of emotions

Disappointment is etched in the cracks
Like small tributaries branching off uncertainly
From the mainstream of what is my life
Then stopping abruptly - no warning
Only to splinter off and out
Down another small tributary
The result being the same

There are shadows of defeat
Formed by the slouching shadows
Like old men hunched over on park benches
Staring wistfully into a distant past
Where bad decisions were made
And hearts were broken repeatedly
And dreams were formed only  to shatter
Leaving a debris of regret and remorse
Visible to all
But useful to none

In the shadows I see reflections of myself
Different stages of my life
Shadows of fear
Shadows of despair
Shadows of surrender

Then beyond them rise the giants of positive reflections
Looming menacingly over the dark shadows
Promising to engulf them
In the solidarity of surety
Wrapping itself like a blanket over my life
Smothering the dingy shadows
That try to extinguish hope and faith
And the promise of a brighter tomorrow

So I'm enthralled
But I never succumb
To the shape shifting inconsistency
Of a life-story told in the shadows

Borderline

I cant understand
         Can't comprehend
Can't make sense
         Can't reconcile
Your ability to lie
         So effortlessly

Knowing how much pain it causes
         How much anguish it brings
How much despair it creates
        When one realises
That all you ever knew
         Is completely untrue

I can't understand
        Can't fathom
Can't come to terms with
        How you find peace in your heart
Knowing how much havoc you wreak
         For those you profess to love

Over and over
        Showing no remorse
Your arrogance precedes all
        Defies all
Disregards all
        Living by your own rules
Unaccountable
        Unrepentent
The lies roll off your tongue
        As if you believe they are now the truth
       


I used to think I was a fool
        That I was naive
That I was gullible
         For succumbing to your dishonest ways
For giving you the benefit of the doubt
         For choosing to see the only the good
I have felt so used and unappreciated
          Extremely betrayed and worthless
How wrong I was to even think
          I could use you as the benchmark
To measure my value or worth


I can't believe
        Can't even begin to imagine
Can't perceive
        Why I ever thought
Why I even considered
        Or even bothered
To keep believing in you
        When you clearly don't believe in yourself

I am drawing a line in the sand today
         Stepping across it boldly
And walking away from you
         Away from your deceit
Away from your disrespect
         Away from your continuous disappointment

How dare you even try
        To take the last of my dignity
The last of my pride
        The last of my hope to believe in good
As you watch my back
        Don't hold your breath
Don't hope for a moment
        Don't think for a split second
That I will look back again
         I won't give you any more chances
I won't reconsider
         I won't look in your direction      
Because it's not the way I'm going anymore

When all is said and done.

Time of death.  11:06 am.

A stilted silence; a pause...

Then like clockwork - the show must go on.

Machines are turned off. The Anesthetist and his entourage of helpers remove their surgical masks and scrub down before evacuating the small room.An attendant stands over the body lying stiff and lifeless before him.  He stares at the  cold body, eyes squinting,  then looks away and turns his attention to the citations he is making on the clipboard he is gripping on his left arm. He sets it on a small table next to the gurney,  inches away from the pillow on which a head is resting. He slips quietly out of the room.The chief surgeon is the last to leave the room,  stopping only briefly  to tuck the sheet snugly under the deceased's chin,  before  dimming the overheads and closing the door quietly behind her. It clicks with a certain finality as the hinges engage.

This is death's holding room.

She does not look back once as she steps into the brightly lit hallway of the ICU. Walking down the long corridor, her brow is furrowed,  mouth set in an emotionless line as she contemplates the next grim task that awaits her beyond the swinging doors a few feet ahead leading into the waiting area of the Intensive Care Unit.  As she approaches the doors she slows down,  takes a deep breath and stops. Pulling herself up straight she lifts her head purposefully, her facial expression now changing.  She dons an almost rehearsed mask; sad eyes,  a helpless but sorrowful air about her features then raises her arms to push gently on the doors. They yield to her touch and within moments she is facing the grief stricken victim's family.

A man sits on the sofa on the far end of the room. Holding his head in his hands,  eyes fixed on the floor in shock. She's gone. She...is gone.A distinctly older woman sits next to him,  her shoulders drooping resignedly. Her face is concealed in a fluffy handkerchief into which she is quietly sobbing.  Her other hand is set firmly on the man's bony knee. From a distance it's hard to make out whether she is leaning on him for support or comforting him. Or both. They could have done better.  They should have.  She certainly deserved it. Sadly, whether they could or should,  it's futile now. Such is the ruthlessness of time.  She strides on, eyes fixed ahead,  intent on moving the ages, her arms swishing to and fro, one noticeably shorter than the other.  She waits for no man. As minutes pass into days and months pass into years.  Her eyes stay fixed on the purpose at hand...

She
waits
for
no one.

Beyond the sofa , set in the far wall, is a large floor to ceiling glass window pane looking out over the hospital gardens.  Orderlies can be spotted wheeling patients into the midday sunshine on the chilly winter day. Peering out of the glass,  her forehead resting gently on the thick glass a teenage girl is standing hunched over. Her palms are resting on either side of her shoulders pressing gently on the window.  As she blinks her tears fall a few centimetres before landing on the surface of the glass and trickling down to the floor, streaking the pane as they roll down. As the sun peaks out from behind the clouds her tear streaks glisten.  For some reason she smiles through her sadness. She closes her eyes as the feels the warmth of the sun's rays now penetrating the window,  warming her face. Her mind drifts. 

She can see her mum in her mind.  She's lost in a myriad of memories. On the grass in mum's cosy little garden flat, as they lie adjacent to each other looking up at the sky.  She can see swirls of smoke drifting lazily in disjointed drunken shapes from where her mum is lying.  " Mom,  you said that was your last pack! " she scolds Mum giggles and says " Oh give me a break.  It's summer.  Can we just lie here and enjoy this wonderful day?  Please darling . It's been a hard week,  don't judge". She reaches over and tickles softly on the cheek she makes contact with.  Laughing now her daughter slaps the hand playfully. " Oh mum. You're incorrigible honestly. " She smiles.  She can still remember the scent of mum's perfume mixed with the smell of tobacco. " I suppose I should finish this before your brother gets home.  Don't feel like being lectured today". Mum sighs dramatically. The smell  reminded her of secrets.  Their secret world.  Where her mum told her about her childhood exploits. And she told her mum about her dreams of making movies.  Mum's eyes would light up as she shouted " Dream big, my baby,  the sky is the limit! "In  between puffs and sobs that year she turned 15 , her mum told her that she was leaving dad. She was so proud of her.  She knew it wasn't easy...  Their secret bittersweet world.  But theirs nonetheless. Just memories now.

She turns now sensing a familiar and comforting presence.  She looks up instinctively and before her is her brother,  eyes misty but a brave smile on his face.  The young man is keeping it together for his little sister.  It's what mum would have wanted. He remembers what she said when his wrinkled little powdery sister came home from the hospital- it seems like yesterday.  " This is your little sister.  Being a big brother is like being a Guardian angel, did you know that?  You have to help mummy watch over her. It's your very special job". Those words seem so important now as he looks into her little face,  barely a young woman. He's barely just a man himself.  He hopes mum would be proud of who he's turned out to be. She should be. Through the heartache and uncertainty of the years she's responsible for who they both are today.  And really,  she did the best with what she had.

The pain is mirrored in the reflections of their eyes as they face  each other now.  They embrace.  And in the warmth of the deep embrace they can feel their mothers arms still binding them together.  All the memories wash over them and they laugh and cry at the same time unashamedly now as they prepare to go and sit with her one last time. It's not easy to think their mum's laughter is lost in echoes in the wind now. Only an image of her,always smiling,  now remains in their heads. They pull away from each other and hold hands as they turn to go and follow the nurse waiting patiently by the swinging doors to lead them to her. Heads lowered they saunter through the doors and follow the nurse,  down the Green Mile to where their mum rests peacefully waiting to feel their final touch and hear them whisper goodbye.

The writing on the wall

I've lived
with the same man,
as his wife since I was 20. 
First traditionally in the first 5
years and then legally for the last 13.
The best thing that came out of it - my 2 beautiful children.

In all
those years I
dealt with a lot of
feelings of worthless-ness
despair,  rejection.  Repeatedly ...
to the point where I believed that I was
not worth respecting,  loving or even protecting.

5
months
ago I made a
decision to separate
from my husband and take
time to think about what I really
wanted.  Its been an arduous emotional journey.

In that
5 months
I have come
closer to knowing
myself,  what I value
about myself, why my life
has purpose. I can truly say
that for the first time in my adult
life I accept who I am, I genuinely see
my beauty and love myself more than I ever
came close to in the last 18 years. I did that by myself.

Marriage
is supposed
to be your safe place.
Your haven.  The one place
where one person is committed
to daily reminding you why they chose
you to love,  honour,  respect and  protect. It's
a commitment to building another person up and not
breaking them down.   If its genuine you grow together,  not apart.

Sometimes
we look for answers
in all the wrong places
because we are not ready
to face the painful truth that's
been staring us in the face all along.
If you have to ask yourself where you stand
with someone, chances are that you're standing alone.

If its
taken me
5 months to
show myself what
someone failed to do in
18 years,  it's hard to justify
that they are worth spending one
more minute of my precious life on.

And that's a fact.

Twin beacons

"I've been thinking about it. And what you're doing is like flying a plane. The take off was paying the 1st month's rent. And you did it. And you've been flying really smoothly. But now you have to finish off by landing the plane. It could be bumpy but its never as tough as you think it will be. Have faith in your landing abilities and the training you've done so far to get here and of course the fact that you've just flown all the way from there to the USA. Landing is nothing compared to all that."
                                                                                                                           16 June 2014  - 'My son'


"Just don't think about all the bad things mom. You have to be positive even when you feel like there's no point. Its all these little moments that change our lives. The moments where maybe if you had done something just a little bit differently you would have met somebody or discovered something life changing. Those are the moments we should look forward to. And we never know how close they are. Sometimes, when we're just about to give up, we find success is just around the corner, and if we'd just said no that time we would never have made it. It's all about positivity. The devil wants us to fail mom, but if we believe, God won't let us. I love you"     
                                                                                                               8 August 2014 - ' My daughter'



If you are lucky in this lifetime
You get a beacon of light
That ray of light that gives you hope
Illuminates your path when all is dark
Reminds you as you grapple in darkness
That you will emerge in the light eventually
At times that faint light
Beckoning in the distance 
Is your lifeline
When you can't go on
And you're tired of the long hard and dark road
Its your reason to keep moving forward
Your beacon of hope

I was blessed with not one but two of these
Looking into their eyes 
Is like looking into my own
The miracle of life
My bloodline continued
Mine were the first eyes they ever looked into
And they know I would die for them
They have been my lifeline
Through many a dark night
My reminder that if there's anything I have achieved in my life
It's being a good mother
When I read the words of encouragement
That they are capable of crafting for me
It melts my heart, makes me smile
Spurs me on

My children;
My Twin beacons of light

A fine line

It started in my chest... slightly to the left

Tingling at first then building steadily

Until it was a sharp searing pain

Stabbing inwards  and radiating across my torso

Until I was bent over in pain.

Hunched over I clutched my chest

And slumped to the floor, my eyes blinded by the pain

My heart exploding fit to burst

Then I felt my skin starting to prickle

As if tiny needles were trying to push through my flesh 

but just as they burst through they were rammed back in painfully.

The pain was overwhelming.

Scratching at first then ripping my skin violently

And leaving my pink flesh vulnerable, damaged and exposed.

Tiny beads of blood bubbled then gushed through the pores.

Writhing on the floor in pain I snaked 

Towards the door, desperate to get away from my own body.

Then the room grew dark and  all sensation in my limbs numbed.

I froze ... the panic rising inside me,

Eyes closed and fists clenched I lay there motionless

waiting for the next attack.

What was happening to me? 

Was it all in my head?

Suddenly I was gasping for breath.

It felt as if the air was being siphoned out of the room.

I was crawling now on my hands and knees, looking for an exit

A door..

A window...

Desperate for air, my body shuddering with each raspy gasp.

I tried to inhale but instead felt my chest tighten

As my lungs seized ...then gave up

I slumped to the ground

Reaching out desperately  in the pitch dark

Reaching for help, for relief..for air

Fighting a losing battle  for my life.

My body formed a  pathetic grotesque shape

As I lay there feeling the  life seep out of my body

And then everything shut down.

In an instant

It was over.

The room was so still and quiet.

My last memory... a rank smell of filth and rot.

When I came to the first thing I noticed was the light.

I blinked as I tried to focus.

I raised my arms in up to my eyes,

Shielding them from the light as my eyes adjusted to the view.

I could see the light properly now

It was a warm glow washing over my skin

Like tiny little glitter fairies dancing all over my body

The pain...it was gone!

I felt as light as a feather

I lifted my head and realised that I was somewhere up high.

I was floating in the sky

looking down at my damaged form - 

Still laying slain on the ground ... no longer on the floor 

But now in a dry, and rocky barren field.

How could I be up here

Just floating with my back to the sky,

Seemingly weightless?

As I relaxed and inhaled deeply I smelt the delightful scent 

Of spring bursting to life around me 

I shut my eyes... fresh grass.. hints of lavender and honey 

Drifting seductively into my nostrils

It was so sweet .. and so surreal..intoxicating almost.

I felt giddy, the contrast of these two worlds overwhelming me.

I slowly relaxed and as I did I felt the peace wash over me

What was happening?

Was this a dream?

I was momentarily stunned

And then I saw it...

A fine golden line, shimmering midway between 

my two 'bodies'.. like a ribbon floating in the breeze

This one happy and warm 'self' 

Looking down through the barrier

At this horrific scene below me beyond the line

As if into a mirror of my lifeless 'self' 

Spent and discarded in a wasteland...

And as I took it all in it slowly started to make sense.

ALL OF IT.

There's a fine thin line

Between merely surviving  - 

And actually living

This whole picture was my life 

In all its raw, ugly and also hauntingly beautiful glory

I had a choice to make.

My heart had been slowly breaking over time

Cracking and then shattering and splintering into pieces.

The splinters created were my emotions

Racing riotously  through my body 

Trying to be deciphered but making no sense.

The flood of painful memories

Had tried to be contained in my body - 

But with my sanity gone, my composure destroyed

They started to seep through my pores,

Bleeding through to the outside - 

The toxicity of them rotting my flesh in the process.

The desperate gasps were my last few cries for help

Clutching at the air.. a final desperate bid to escape

The torture of my own life

It was a summary of my existence until this very moment.

This dreamy, warm place was a taste of what it could be..

If I was willing to let it all go,

Let go of the years of pain 

And all who had caused it 

At some point I had started breaking my own heart

Destroying myself from the inside out

With the lies I told myself over and over

To justify this existence that I was choosing

There's a fine line

Between choosing to be a victim

And being the heroine in your own story.

A fine line between giving up

And giving in;

Walking away or bravely starting over.

It doesn't change what was.

You cannot forget it,

Or ever escape it.

But you always have a choice.

A fine line 

Between looking around in desperation for someone to help you

And having the strength to save yourself.

Sometimes from yourself.

It was an easy decision.

I curled my body and arched upwards,

Almost as if I was diving up into the great beyond.

I could see the sun, the moon, and the stars and few bolts of lightning - 

All at once!

I swam speedily upwards,

Forging my own new path,

Swimming towards the light

Into a place where the impossible can be possible - 

Where the sun and the moon can be out at the same time!

Where I made the rules...

And I was in charge.

That grizzly image is a reminder..

That  haunting corpse of a life

Was not what I wanted to be.

I chose life.

I am still swimming upwards - 

And I will never ever turn back.

#survivior#neverquit#

Hyacinth, Iris, Violet...my blossoms for life

Out of 26 ...it had to be 3. 

A town in the back of beyond
A chance encounter
Our eyes locked and then I broke the gaze
I smiled as I turned away
I knew the moment I saw him
That he was mine and I was his
I have looked back so many times and wondered
Was it my destiny or did I choose my own fate?


Lust. Foolishness. Lack of direction.
It could never have spelt a good beginning
My gut always told me he wasn't right
I ignored it
I fell in love and  stayed in love
Long after it made sense to
I saw happily ever after, I wanted happily ever after
I was trying to fill a gaping hole
It only grew


Late nights
Broken promises
Abuse and pain
Tears
Desperation
A mother whilst I was a child myself
My life in another child's hands
I was never safe
None of us were
How could we be?

The day he told me we had to talk
I had a sinking filling.. I already knew
The writing had been on the wall for longer than I cared to remember
Wishing I had stopped, read the signs and run ...was futile
In an instant my life changed forever
Anger
Disgust
Regret
Crippling Fear


Almost 2 decades later
Many bruises. On my skin. On my heart.
My dignity in shreds
The sanctity of marriage little more than a humourless joke
Years of lies and betrayal
Telling myself it was the best thing for the kids
The best thing for me..surely?
So I stayed
He owed it me
To us
But now I realise that I owe it to myself
To face the truth
That all I get for my naivety is this pathetic little bouquet


It could have been S
For Saffron
It could have been D
For Daisy
It could have been A
For Aster
I would have settled for any of those 3 
Or any other 3 in fact
They don't spell a three letter plague
I have often wondered when the precise moment was
That I received my tiny bouquet of toxic flowers
Seemingly sweet
Deceivingly beautiful

But out of the 26 it had to be 3... 

And now we co-exist 
They are my friend and my foe
Giving me strength whilst destroying me everyday
A bitter irony I acknowledge daily
But they are an inextricable part of me
There's no running
No hiding
No wishing it away
They are now my blossoms for life...

Hyacinth, Iris, Violet.

The Fray

The men sit and discuss politics.  Chests puffed out. Bellies protruding and sagging dangerously low, just held up by tattered leather belts. So many opinions. Visual autopsies. A judgmental audience to the proceedings before us. The state of affairs in our country. Occasionally sipping on the fermented delights that are supplied in steady  supply by their lovely counterparts as they watch the fire blaze until it dwindles into glowing embers. Voices bellowing and bouncing off into the night sky. Competing for a space in the testosterone induced  melody of meaningless manhood. Why are we not encouraging each other and mentoring each other through the difficult and slippery slopes of life? Why isn't age advising naivety?  The fray.

Women bustle around subserviently. Plying the men with drinks.  Busying themselves over smoking  and bubbling pots. Have the men been fed? Is their thirst quenched? Who is stoking their fire? Jubilant children bouncing forward to share with exuberance  the discovery of an oddly shaped stick ( could it be a magical wand mummy? ) only to be swatted away in frustration.  So many tasks , so little time. Unconstructive notes are shared through the haze of stinging smoke. Conclusions are drawn. Bitterness deepens. Why are we not empowering one another instead of deepening each others' insecurities?  The fray.

Rejected. The  children watch from a distance.  Too young to hear the men's tales of conquest or to be entertained or appreciated by them. Unwanted in the hot kitchens where they disturb and could overhear ' big peoples talk'... they stand and watch. Sponges. Soaking it all up. Trying to figure how much of what they observe they should eventually pass on. What is the legacy to be passed on? Who do they take their cues from?  What is the ' right' way to be or aspire to? The fray.

Getting over oneself

We've all had pity parties. But ain't no party like my pity party.
Every guest is welcome.
Sadness jiggles in time to Regret as they do the 'bump-jive'.
Disappointment and Rejection sashay back and forth disrupting the rhythmic mob with their tango in the perilously small dance floor.
Every emotion is vying for a moment in the spotlight.
Anger gyrates slowly and seductively with Indignation.
Its mesmerising to watch.
Self-pity is at the door, ushering guests in , inconsiderately unaware of how squashed and uncomfortable the party is.
Depression links arms with Hopelessness and they bustle around ensuring that every guest feels welcome.
Frustration is at the turntables spitting out tracks to please the crowd.

"Life perfect
Ain't perfect
If you don't know what the struggle's for
Falling down ain't falling down
If you don't cry when you hit the floor
It's called the past cause I'm getting past
And I ain't nothing like I was before
You ought to see me now"  -
LESSON LEARNED - Alicia Keys

Its like she is reading my mail. Alicia...how do you know my pain???

I love the last line of that paragraph. But like the meantime, its a painful journey...line by line... getting to that last line.

The beginning of healing is getting over oneself. Just feeling your emotions instead of observing them and giving them  a name from a meaningless distance. Coming up close and personal, embracing and immersing yourself in them and really feeling them. No shame. Falling down. Hitting the floor. Hitting rock bottom.  Because unless you get to that gritty, nasty part of the pit you can't be disgusted enough to look up to see the way up and out of your 'pity pit'. And therein lies the path to getting over oneself. The path to re-birth.

So you can stand and say with pride " You ought to see me now".

Traffic musings

Where I come from, when the Presidential motorcade goes by everyone knows what to do...and we don't miss a beat. Cars pull off the road swiftly and grind to a halt to make way for his entourage of shiny vehicles. In that moment we are all just meaningless minions making way for greatness to come though. From sleek Jaguars and imposing Landrovers to  the array of dilapidated Japanese imports that throng our busy city streets.  In that one moment, we are all the same. Time stands still and everyone is motionless. Waiting. In the blistering heat. Until the signal from the last police escort that we may all merge back into traffic - an 'as you were' of sorts.

I often wish my life could be that way. That when the madness in my head and chaos of my emotions becomes too much to deal with or bear I could silently raise a hand and the world would know what to do. That everything that has breath and every little bit of motion would come screeching to a halt. That life could stop. Give me a moment. A moment to breathe. To think. To just drift a little and not worry about the 'whys' and 'if-onlys' and just exhale deeply. That the pandemonium that is my life would be a peaceful stillness. Just for a moment.  Until I was ready to face it all again. But if wishes were horses... you know what they say - beggars would ride.