Tag: writing
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Lullaby of Unsafety
Unsafe. Feel the ground shifting. Unsafe, attacked from all sides. Unsafe, heartbeat pounding, primal trigger, fight or flight to survive. Unsafe. Angry bomb ticking. Unsafe, primal alert. Unsafe, ears are ringing, body-bound senses hyper-vigilance. Unsafe. Pendulum swinging. Unsafe, unknown terrain. Unsafe, words are fleeing, protectively silenced, frozen in shame. Unsafe but defences are holding. Faint…
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Before
Before I knew that the sky was blue I imagined it to be grey; Kept curtains closed to never expose myself to a dismal day. Hid out of sight eyes shut tight, I wished the hours away, To never face the endless race, to keep my fears at bay. Still, as time passed, with courage…
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Things I wish weren’t true
A family fractured beyond repair – unimaginable loss shocks to the core. Unenviable position to be sole heir perched on a knife edge between hope and despair
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Un-Safety
A relationship without emotional safety is not a healthy relationship. A relationship without safety is merely an insecure attachment, or a trauma bond. Safety brings freedom, to express, to have needs, to be vulnerable, to feel, and to grow. Anything less is emptiness
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Dismissed
Which sad is worse? Being with you Or without you.
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At a loss
It’s a terrible feeling to lose a sibling, as if part of my being has ceased existing. A bittersweet agony I wouldn’t recommend, piercing far deeper than losing a friend. A part of my heart feels lost without them, refusing to believe I’ll never see them again. Yearning for just one more conversation, to ease…
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Grief
Feeling cast adrift, forever lost at sea; Pounded by waves, a deluge of “if onlys”.
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Dear Sister
I’m listening … please speak to me. I wish you’d been frank, spoken openly. I saw pain on your face, you were clearly angry. Holding all of this must have been torture. Is there anything more I could have done for you? I shared your pain, it’s my truth too. I can’t change the past,…
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Trust
Plagued by questions that have no answer; A search for truth, pulling us under. Futile flailing only muddies the water. Caught in a current, nothing to hold on to. Tossed and turned in the torrent of life. Bruised and battered, struggling to survive. Glimmers of hope, a will to thrive. Trusting the process, could you…
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My Patchwork Heart
Sewing the pieces of my heart back together, with surgical precision, a delicate endeavour. Sensing the guidance of spirits and elders; a work of love, for sons and daughters. Each piece a moment frozen in time. Memories of childhood, my sisters hands in mine. Joy of birth. Fast forward. Rewind. Holding my mothers hand as…
To The Core 