
Whatever the way
Something happened here
In between
Something that needs
To be healed
Whatever the way
Something happened here
In between
Something that needs
To be healed
Reading words
Pinned on the fridge
Saturday morning
Memories kept
Memories fading
Your heart is a thieve
Shivers through the skin
Past love gone blind
Memories kept
Memories fading
Grey sky turning black
The sound of thunder behind
No place to hide
Memories kept
Memories fading
For the present only
Hold the key
To peaceful growth
And serenity
A song
Well known by all
Song of pain
And trust
Tomorrows are waiting
To be written
Open your heart
To the eternal light
And then pain will fly away
Like birds migrating to warmer lands
Will remain the song
Of the harp strings gently touched
By sacred hands
Engraved in my cells
This night
Like any other
In a whisper
I was gone
Like a ghost
I hurtled down the stairs
It was over
Shots of pain
Across my heart
I was never yours
You just thought
You could stole
Parts of my soul
In the street that night
The pieces of my life
Scattered everywhere
The chance to put them back together
And find myself again!
***
I know that nothing can change nor erase the violence of that special night. It’s there forever. It’s part of me as good memories are too. It was for so long a night I would recall with fear. The words, the scene, the threats.
It was tough and yet, thank God, it was, or I would have never left. I would have came back, despite the mess, despite the nonsense, despite me becoming a stranger to myself. And it would have been tragic!
This night gave me the chance to start anew. Sometimes the best is hidden in the most dangerous places.
This is my piece of poetry as part of Writing Prompt proposed by Mona.
Don’t look behind
For it doesn’t hold
What you are looking for
Images fade away
Memories become dust
If you don’t nourish them
Look forward
Walk towards your dreams
If you wish to take something with you
May it be the best only!
Just a word
I could feel the call
One guitar chord
Can take me
In a place of memories
Home is where
Your music lead me
Without anything else
But your own sense
Of freedom
This is my poetry as part of Mona’s Writing Prompt idea.
Rewriting the story
Of an unknown love
As sacred as gold
Together since…
And yet I thougt
I could give you away
Precious gift
So tiny
Inside my belly
My steps
Frozen
My heart
Broken
A story
Of guilt
And love
Rewriting the story
So you can understand
Where you come from
Find your truth inside
Making choices is kind of hard to me. I tend to come and go and change my mind many times a day when I need to take a decision or make a move. I find it even hard to chose between yoghurts at the supermarket, so…
I always wait – too long – for people’s approval. It may never come. Still it reassures me at times. But it keeps me dependant of what others are thinking, which come with their perception of a specific situation. That may not be mine at all.
There is one subject, thought, where I do stand my ground, despite what everybody else think and would rather do – if they’re me – they’re not, thank God!
This is about my son’s dad. For me it’s no relationship except what was stated in the divorce papers. I don’t care that he is his father – I think this is complete bullshit by the way, I mean a father is a man who cares about his child, and not about himself only.
Anyway. I am not tender with him. I will never be. I will never trust him anymore. Maybe it sounds harsh but I know him. And I know he is no good for his son. Never will be, except maybe if he realize one day (I doubt it!) the mess he’d done and take responsability for it.
I gave enough of my joy, faith, love, enough of my time, money, spirit for this guy.
I remember being angry in the past towards people who could not understand and kept telling me to be more gentle and accept that people may change.
But who can really understand this feeling of opression and being manipulated with each word said or written?
I am the one with the experience, the one with the remains of the past, the one who struggled and rebuilt my life day after day. I am the one with the knowledge of what I can give and what can’t be given – a second chance.
So I let people have their ideas on the subject. Mine is not to be challenged!
I don’t know why you poped up into my mind this morning. Your memory.
I remember, will always, where I was when the phone rang, how I felt. I somewhere knew what was about to be said. Something written since the day you entered my life. It could not last. Life like this. Life in a place of suffering. Pain, inside your head, in your body. Your fainted smile as the years went by.
Sometimes a glimpse of hope. Sometimes a chance, maybe. But every time it went as it came. And we remained there, on the threshold of a new dawn, the heart lost in a future that we could only imagine, that would never be yours to walk towards.
The end. I was prepared and yet, I lost balance. I felt relieved for you. I felt pain rushing into my blood and anger filling the space with emptiness.
You were so young. I was so full of dreams, thinking I could overcome every difficulty, I could break the silence they put between us. Your parents thought I was judging them. They felt guilty enough for not being able to look after you the way others thought they ought to.
They were wrong. I was on their side. I was your godmother, not a complete stranger with straight ideas on what it takes and what it means of rasing a disabled child.
You were always an angel anyway. To me. When death took you away, you just get home. You are somewhere between the stars. In my heart for ever. A part of my life. A bright one despite the end, despite all that went wrong between the day I hold you tight in that church and the day the phone rang to tell me you passed away. We did not say goodbye.
Days come and go. You are somewhere and everywhere. Never too far away.
What days look like when you are not part of the world anymore, when you wander in galaxies, sky and stars, no limit?
What do you do for hours when there is no more agenda, no night and light, when wholeness and emptiness mean the same?
There were happy days – childhood memories. And then something happened. You left. You died and we knew it. We knew it would happen. We knew it was just a matter of months. We knew and we closed our eyes. Cause you were special. Maybe we thought you couldn’t die. We were not ready for it. I was not ready for it. We’re never ready to welcome death.
Some people say that love ends. I might be crazy but I know somehow this is a lie. Maybe it serves people who don’t want to see the light shining through the clouds.
We loved each other before we met. And love is still playing in the background. You know everything. I can confess you all my deepest joys and pains, my shortcuts and my dreams.
You are somewhere. Not a body but a soul. And nobody can ever catch you again. You’re free.