Monday, 24 September 2012

''For those of little dust''

''Kept hidden like the scars of birth.
Nature unable to soften the words.''

I fell to my knees in tears, leaving a silky residue that softened my cheeks, from my eyes,
and then I smiled.

I believe I began to open, every so slightly ; a mere slit of an opening - when I was eighteen.
It was summer, I was sad, lonely and lost, not knowing who I was or where I was going in life - no direction at all. One evening, walking home with a friend, I was run over by a drunk driver, I never saw it coming. The  car -  a six seater people carrier, reversed into me at a fairly fast speed and trapped me between a wall, crushing my left leg with its bonnet as it did so. I felt no pain, only shock, it was surreal, I couldn't figure out what had just happened. As the car had me squashed against the wall, my hands fell onto its boot, as if it was a leaning point, or as if to try to stop it, and I remember how still everything felt. Right there, for a tiny second, although it seemed a little longer, everything fell still and silent, then as the driver drove off, not realising he'd hit me, reality kicked in and I fell to the ground and began screaming. I saw blood, I panicked, and then the pain set in.
During my recovery, I developed anorexia nervosa, restricting my food intake, controlling my body and what I ate as I had no control over anything else in my life at that point. 
Once I recovered (from my injury) and began to walk again, my self created hunger developed her creative side, and I began to draw and to paint and to write.
This was my creative opening.
Over the last seven years I've slowly began to open even more, going through pains and hurts and heartaches along the way, but also experiencing love and joy and peace.
Now, at twenty five, I feel grateful for my life so far, and grateful for having had the chance to become opened at a young age.
I was one of those ''of little dust,'' I saw the light in front of me, and instead of ignoring it or chasing it away, I chose to embrace it, or rather, let it embrace me.

''Most of humanity, have eyes that are so caked shut with the dust of deception they will never see the truth, no matter who tries to help them.'' *

Once awakened, once we know the secret, we smile. It is only when we question and set the mind into a state of worry that we become fragile. The power of the mind is knowing how to use it for its rightful purpose.
In the stillness of our minds we become free.
There is some part of me, the part that speaks to me when I'm at my most calmest and peaceful, that tells me, in her own language, who I really am and where I really belong.

''We're angels you and me mum.''

Words I whispered to my mum not so long ago as she lay beside me in bed and nursed me at my most vulnerable state yet.
That night, I almost died, my heart almost stopped after being in an exhaustive state of panic for four days, with no sleep, little food and no water. I lye sweating in bed, next to my mum, not knowing if I was conscious or dreaming, but I was falling, through a darkened tunnel, and I saw something menacing swimming towards me, I tried to scream, but I couldn't breathe. Then suddenly, my mum shot up out of bed, and I suddenly became conscious to find her panicked in the next room, saying to her partner that she'd seen something menacing hovering above us both. 
Whatever it was, my mum willed it away and I slept like a baby.
The week spent recovering was one of the most challenging weeks of my life as yet, but I'm glad it happened, I feel stronger for it, and as I recovered, I shifted that last tiny speckle of dust that was blocking my view.

Angels may lose their way, but they never lose their grace.


Friday, 7 September 2012


Shackled by flames
Presence protrudes
and forgives
''Don't push me too far.''
in a far off fire,
woven in her heart
like a torch.
Petal breath in palm,
dipped in frog spawn rivers,
her nipples sweetly kissed
her fine rimmed surface.
towards the edges of their hearts.
They moved fine on the swing
until their heads became faint,
but Angelene knew nothing 
of the kisses they sent,
because they were never truly felt.
''As I send my love in masks,
use not your head but your hearts.''

Real love ripples in the dark.


Wednesday, 5 September 2012


''There is a seashell in me...polished smooth by the sand...gleaming in the sunlight...beautiful and interesting...admired by many people...
Like a seashell, I am empty inside.
There is a flounder in me...always trying to fit it...blending in with the background...never standing out...always changing colours...afraid of being seen...
Like a flounder, I make myself invisible.
There is a sponge in me...stationary and immobile...stuck in one place...watching other fish live their lives...absorbing everything that swims in its way...
Like a sponge, I am frustrated by my powerlessness.
There is a dolphin in me...childishly playful...cleaver and bright...kind and good natured...strong but gentle...
Like a dolphin, I befriend all that know me.
There is a shark in me...fearlessly bold...ruthlessly vicious...threatening and intimidating...insensitive and unfeeling...attacking anyone who swims too close...
Like a shark, I only think about my own survival.
I am an ocean, deep, and sometimes dark, full of life and sunken treasure, hiding beneath a surface of blue-green waves.'' *

*A poem by a young girl suffering from anorexia nervosa, written at the age of 13
Biting the hand that starves you

Tuesday, 4 September 2012


The Lions gaze unfolds in Threes
A single flame
One doesn't work without Three

Sunday, 2 September 2012


I disappeared
And revealed myself..

Fervent little flower