05/05/2015

some of us are
squashed Potential
bent over ourselves,
tucked deep beneath
our insecurities.
captive to the fears
we've allowed to bathe
ourselves in

Reminder

We are not immortal.

Far from it

Fragile.

Oh Hello Again

12/09/2014

You had been the stuff of my poems, immortalized in my literature.

I had forgotten you were real.

Bail Out

12/01/2014

At the first sign of reality, I start tossing all hopes out the window. I look out and watch them fall south of my heart, then dip my head back inside before I can hear the sound of them breaking.

Poison

10/22/2014

I think our hands are poison.

We lay our hands in the water

And contaminate streams.

I watch the heart of the ocean turn black

And the surrounding trees die by the riverside

Thirsty roots desperately crawl towards the edge of the water

Drained ever bone dry

At the touch of ironic moisture.

I wonder what did we do?

And where did it all go wrong?

When all we started with was love

When you pray for me

I am suspended upon the breath of your lips

The roll and lull of each pleading

That I no longer remember are mine.

I am a crumpled mess of tired trying

Befriending the coolness of this floor

And I'm not sure I can try this hard anymore.

But then I feel the way of your words

Upon warmed in the receiving hand of the Lord

Roll and tuck themselves beneath these heavy arms and aching head

And I am lifted ever so gently without my knowing

'til my eyes have settled above the base of this floor

And my gaze is upon His face once more

And I remember Him

My Lord my Love.

I stand

I walk

He tells me I will learn to dance again.

Seasonal

The Cold rolls in beneath the folds of my bedsheets

Afflicting my lungs with a sudden ferocity

As It announces that It is indeed here.

I watch the Sun recede from my window

taking with it my memories of summer

and in my lucid paralysis I am replaced with an all too familiar fear.

I lie here with an overwhelming need for death,

so I can just stop

trying.

My blood is only warmed by my anger that the Lord has demanded

that I remain here

on this side of Life.

I have become unlovable. and will be unloved.

"Your poverty is greater than ours"

"The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty -- it is not only for a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There's a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God."
-  Mother Teresa

Something that has been apparent to me for quite some time now is that despite living in a developed country, I don't have to venture further than a step ahead to find a deep poverty in this country. It lives in our homes, in our workplaces, in the hearts of our friends, our family, and strangers. It's not something a couple of loonies thrown in a cup can help remedy temporarily. I don't even feel a few kind words help either - though I try. Even a trip to somewhere far away and beautiful seems to help at first, but we take our hearts with us, and the crevices of its contents eventually reveal themselves to remind us that we were missing something all this while.

How can we live in these privileged worlds with our mouths easily filled, our bodies always sheltered, our lives bombarded with company, with future luxuries just another easy paycheque away - and still feel so lost and listless?

I've seen that one can fill their lives and their bodies with necessities easily - but a sense of purpose and hope?<-- that seems a harder purchase to find. That need is found somewhere deeper in the soul that I've been humbled to realize only God can find and fill there. If we let Him.

What scares me is that some of us don't know what we're missing. We don't know how truly poor we are. How can you ask to heal a wound you can't see?

"Je ne sais quoi"

Paris:
Maybe she had a chat over some macarons with the Mona Lisa at her stop in Paris - because since she's returned, she smiles with that elusive clear-eyed secret that perhaps she may know something we all don't.

Cleanse

Take me by the water
where I will lay my shame
by the Oceanside.
Let the waves lap away
the pain of this pride I hide beneath a false front of humility.
I will break open my chest
and expose beneath my breasts - a heart that's been begging
to be warmed by the Sun.
Let me dip it beneath the water
and watch the blackness run
and run and bleed all sin and grief into the vast relief of this blue Universe.
I'll know that it is done
when this stone in my hands has turned into a fresh flesh pink.
I will then cradle it by my ears to hear
the most dear sound of my own pulse beating -
and I will remember yet again what this heart is for.
So take me by the water
where I will reclaim my name
by the Oceanside.

An Excerpt on Boy-Crazy

I don't know what it was with the last full-moon, but it definitely had me going loopy - and a tad boy-crazy. Okay no, perhaps more than just a tad. Found a laughable reflection in my journal. Thought I'd share. Enjoy.

"Act Like a Lady Think Like a Man"

I think I've become boy-crazy.

Yes. I believe it must stem from being single for so long. I've got crushes all over the place. I entertain the thought of dating practically every other guy that I meet. I run them through a quick evaluation in my head: pick them up and examine them from every angle and pocket them away as "potentials" or discard as I see fit.

It's weird. And inappropriate. I know. And I can't seem to help it. It's like a single ladies' game up in my head while I practically lead the life of a spinster.

haunted

I am -
at a point where I hesitate to crack
my old journal entries Open - for Fear
that I will find within its pages
the dilapidated dusting of Dreams
I have Not fulfilled

or worse - 
to Not find the personal constellation of once-believed-Visions
because I'd once-or-twice forgotten
to write them down.

(I confess that I run around with a constant fear that I will lose my heart and hopes in this city.)

lame secrets we all share

sometimes i like to play songs and pretend they are meant just for me

NYE countdown

it was supposed to be a joke...
                                                     but then I  - 
                                                                         couldn't stop kissing you
                                                                                          
(geeheehee!)

2012

2012: My heart is full, my soul is still
I hold my breathe in anticipation
of what my lips will
sing

I am making ripples in the water
And it is okay. we are all okay

2013: let us make waves :)

Toe the Line

His promise spews forth thoughtlessly
and hangs in the air between us
carelessly reckless

at work, it's winter, and i'm day-dreaming

i wish it were summer already
so that i may feel the heat on my skin
the lazy warmth of my content heart
and the blooming hope and certainty that something beautiful
is on the horizon

and i do not mind the debauchery
of summer nights
when i trip into some cinnamon-scented bar in sand-dusted sandals.
where we are all unnamed and unknown bodies
- until kissed
our lips revealing universes we’ve all missed
in the winter.
i could be drunk on love or liquor i couldn’t tell
but i’d be inlove regardless (oh well)
oh how i wish it were summer already  ;)

10...9...8...and 2012

Remnants of paper pink crepe lie strewn
on top of
glasses of champagne thrice bubbled over & drained
bone-dry from the desperate guzzle of recipients who fancied it the "youth fountain" tonight.
When morning hits they'll still be hoping they were right.

Beneath it all I kneel
in the hollow nook of emptiness.
Another year ahead and this time it all looks too endless. What in years past looked like another fresh trail to blaze now drags before me a daunting tangled haze of more
mistakes, more regrets, and roads I didn't expect.
Another year ahead and I've got nothing to give. Nothing to hope for, to see, and I can't seem to forgive.
Is there something in the joy of the countdown I missed..?
I ask God if there is any grace in this.

tomorrow today

Been sitting in the ground with my head held down,
And now I'm finally standing up.
I'm feeling much taller
- could've sworn I stood smaller
than before I had first fell down.

Invasion

This is something I wrote not too long ago and I felt the need to share it on here. It's a little dark as it touches on the subject of sexual transgression. I apologize if it's a little heavy so I figured I should at least give the warning. It's an important subject regardless and as I have been reflective on the topic of personal boundaries recently, I thought to share this. Enjoy.
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My boundaries feel like a widely porous membrane - a transparent and trembling mass of walls half-heartedly set up. Easy to poke and easy to invade and impose upon your will on a whim.

And I am tired. And there is blood and a sense of loss. And I no longer know where I end and where you begin and I can't catch my breathe and I wonder if you can feel me whimpering at the weight of it all.

God how did I get here? I don't know how one can expect to play with fire and not get burnt. I don't know why I look for love in all the wrong places. 

God make me clean. I am still bleeding.