Once upon an another time

Once upon an another time,

I found my forever grow with me.

I walked down a winding road,

When did dreams need a hand to hold? 

Cloudy days and rain washed streets,

Cigarettes and fallen leaves,

Tyre tracks and window sills,

Candy floss and carousels.

I walked alone and found my way,

Along that lonely mountain pass.

Tea cups and handle bars,

Sun kissed valleys and humming bees,

Silhouettes and starry skies,

Among them I stood, only me.

I climbed the hill only to find,

I left the child I knew behind.

No enemies to call my own,

No shadows on the porch calling me home,

No letters in the mailbox haunting me,

For I was free like a sailor at sea.

By myself on those summer nights,

I knew that was where I wanted to be.

Piano keys and paintbrushes,

Musty books and ink blotches,

Soaring eagles and scuttling mice,

In unexpected places I found paradise.

Once upon an another time

I found my forever grow with me.

Where I stood my world began,

And my past never haunted me.

I Found You

You, who smile when you find the moon looking at you as the clouds leave her face, like a veil being lifted. You sing of nightingales and forgotten things. You dance to a tune that plays in the orchestra of your mind. You, who appreciate the enormity of life and yet are humbled by its fleeting presence. I found you.

Your eyes are like looking into a galaxy of emotions, the Stars sparkle in the depths light years away. You hold me spellbound with that smile like a newborn babe. And all I ever want to do is smile with you.

We come from two worlds. You have seen more frugality and hardship and believed a prosperous world would be a better one. I had wallowed in excess and romanticised the notion of a more equal world. Our conversations were like a painting, never before had so much contrast existed in harmony. 

For the first time in a long time I waited in eager anticipation for the future to unfold. I knew it could hold sorrow that could sway me to madness but I knew there was a real possibility of finding happiness more profound than the stillness of a lake in a quiet countryside. Because I found you.

Your stories of home and everyday life made me smile at the innocence in your heart. Your simple yet eloquent embrace brought tears to my eyes. I have seen something so mesmerising in our midnight conversations like gazing upon a scene so intense the time stands still.

I found you unexpectedly. It was like soaring into the clear blue sky with the wind caressing my face. I found you when you were hurting  from losing another. I looked on to the swirling sea of pain within you and a wave pulled me into the darkness. 

And I lost you to a sea of faces as you disappeared into the crowd on a busy train station…

  

Fickle love

Her hand was her story and entwined with mine it was ours. And at 24 that hand still eludes me.

Romantic love has a way of making it into stories. Love can be acted out by the players in the Queen’s Court. Love can be destroyed by the sweat of the slaves who built the Taj Mahal. Love thrives in the hearts of a revolutionary hiding from the guards in a darkened alley. Love dances by the light of a flickering candle and a frayed book- narrating a story of freedom, equality and justice. Love dies on a battlefield with the last breath of every soldier. And love is reborn with the first cry of every child.

I implore you to not belittle this emotion with mindless gifts and empty promises. Don’t singe the fabric of this treasure shared by all that grows and breathes with your petty bickering. Don’t confine it to a day of shallow celebration.

If  you don’t realise that love is more than a ring at the bottom of a champagne glass. If you can’t fathom the idea of love existing in multitudes. If you can not understand why forced monogamy may not be what true love is. If you chose to believe love is found in sameness and that it is possible to fall out of love. It is you who  will never find it.

Because love doesn’t have to be forever to be. A gesture, a look, a word, a song, a dance can make the heart take flight. Love doesn’t glitter it shines-through the eyes of those who can feel it. It comes in many hues, like seeing light through a kaleidoscope. Love cannot be chained and it is not the beginning or the end. It might find you at a crossroads and it may not walk the path you chose to take.

Love may be a part of your story if you find it, but it is never the entirety of it. Our stories are not measured by the promise of forever but by the life we live and world we leave behind.

 

 

 

 

Roses in December

Remember that day we walked down this lane? I held your hand and the world seemed so distant. I can’t remember now what it was we talked about. The conversation has faded, but your smile burns into my heart like it had on that cold winters day.

Have you kissed another? And felt like we did? Did it feel like brandy flowing through your veins? They say love is cautious and brave. Maybe mine was reckless but it was love all the same.

We walked towards a bench and by it saw that lonely rose. Bright red it beckoned us. We sat for a while didn’t say a word. There was no one around and time stood still.

I was only seventeen. A silly ignorant teenage girl, hopelessly in love. Unaware of the world around her. I dreamt a lot back then. I didn’t know who I was or who it is I wanted to be. My future seemed so far away. We danced so often do you remember? Our laughter echoes in my mind, gurgling and fading away. I was carefree like the eagle we once saw circling over the valley. But as we sat there I found an answer to a question I asked myself often back then. Looking back on my life and wrinkled and greying what do I want to see?

That rose taught me this. All I want to be is a lonely rose in a field of snow. Frozen in time and memory. It won’t be easy to brave that storm, but it will be worth a thousand summer days. I won’t have the bees humming over my head. I might meet a raven or a fox crossing frozen rivers. The adoration of a million bees won’t be as golden as the acquaintance of these intrepid travellers. I may not bloom for long but long enough for lovers to come upon a rose in December and smile their sweetest smiles. Long enough for one lost soul that sings of sorrows unknown to gaze upon me and find hope. My road has always been the one less travelled by. That rose helped me find the courage to accept that. It’s the beauty not everyone can see and fewer can appreciate.

I didn’t know what you were thinking of as we stared into the distance my head resting on your shoulder and our fingers intertwined. I didn’t tell you then but my life changed that day. When I chose to live like roses in December.

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Stop dreaming

There is a part of you that dreams. That part wants things it can’t have. It wants things out of your reach. For some it may be to find the unexpected waiting to happen, to step out and see that what they expected was only a shadow to the person that cast it. Their expectations will fall short. That part all of us think is the reason why. It’s the reason why we find strength to ask questions that may break us. It’s the reason why we cry alone sometimes. It’s also the reason why we smile. It’s the part of you that you think makes life worth living.

But there is a part of you that brings you back. Back to where you belong. When you thought maybe just maybe dreams exist for a reason. This part shows you dreams are just that dreams. They are illusions. Yes you may see glimpses of a few somewhere along the way. But they disappear when you try to hold on to them. People think this is the part of us that makes us ordinary. That it stops us from staring in wonder at the leaf falling from a tree, at the sun setting by the sea, at the tear rolling down a cheek. But all that part really does is it stops us from losing ourselves to a fantasy. It tells us don’t. Sometimes dreams may be misleading. You may not really want what you think you do. It is not wrong to get out when you can, because what looks like water in the hot desert sun might just be sand. So wake up. And stop dreaming.

But for that part to stay alive you need the one that dreams. You need to know what you think you want so that when something extraordinary happens you know it is bigger than all you dreamt of. Don’t hold on if you want to let go. But don’t let go because you think you want diamonds when all you get is a rose. Because that rose is the best there is. It is better than a thousand diamonds. If you can’t see the beauty of it then your reality can never be beautiful. Let go of those dreams, let reality be the only dream you have. There may be something better around the corner, but the thing about reality is it has thorns, it is cloaked, it is hiding. Only those who have dreamt right will find it. Because sometimes reality is better than your dreams could ever be.

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