Joy In Chaos

Sometimes there is joy

In having a little dose of chaos

It is like a bolt of electricity 

Which wakes up your neurons

And shakes your thoughts

I don’t like physical chaos

But a touch of mental lightening

Feels refreshing

Like standing underneath a waterfall

It is good to dream in vibrant colours

And hear music, even play it

Like an internal celebration 

With balloons and poppers and laughter

Sometimes you just need to re-calibrate 

Let disorder rumple your edges

Then feel good cleaning up the mess

Make a shape that is perhaps better than before

Form a different shape of ‘you’

There is no telling when chaos will arrive

Maybe when things are too much

Maybe when there is too little

But I think I will embrace it

Let it swirl inside and around me

Gather up the power of the storm 

Channel the indigo skies into thoughts -

And words. 

Deepest January

In my deepest January 

I open doors in my mind

Let my feet nestle in the fallen leaves

Watch the moon waxing and waning

And hear the stars sing

Their apple-sweet melodies 

In my deepest January

I take a deep breath

And give thanks for the words

Which continue to flood my thoughts 

I capture them like fireflies 

And let them shine inside me

In my deepest January 

I dream of faeries collecting

Washed up shells

On the coastlines of my youth

Cowries and mermaids purse

Shining treasures coming to a stop

In my deepest January 

I cast my soul inwards 

And my eyes outwards

Find comfort inside and out

In my deepest January 

I feel rooted in my year

Of times gone past

And times yet still to come.

Kindred

My kindred spirit waits for me

Like a memory in the attic

An old bronze coin

Or a treasured skull

She looks out for me

Amongst the ashes

In my dreams

I am like a wild horse

Kicking the waves

Running free

Sensations so deep

They make me dizzy

I look up, reading the map of stars

Struggling not to blink

In case they vanish

It feels as if my life

Has been both a long and short trip

That there is much to learn

About being a woman 

A knack of understanding 

I must nurture and let grow

I look forward to summer

When apples are swapped for peaches 

When sugar spills down my lips

And my hunger for sweetness is sated

I must trust my kindred spirit 

Know that she will guide me 

Bright as the North Star

I will let her out of the attic

Place my hand in hers

- And fly.

For Shay's Word Garden 

Brain Rot

I dip a toe in the Rabbit Hole

It is at once frightening and familiar

A calculated risk

An old friend or an enemy 

That I can’t decide 

I have come so far

But there are still more steps to take

More sentences in the story

More pages to fill

And covers to bind 

I imagine a beige book

With a red ribbon book mark

Thick blue ink

And rich vellum paper

Doughy like fresh bread

Just like home - my place of being

I do not want my brain to rot

I want to see the clouds passing in the sky

To hear the owl hooting in the trees

Just as I wake up and make tea

I want to walk without shaking

Dream without sweating

Stop waking up in a panic I cannot explain 

Perhaps I was curious

Perhaps I was unwell

Treading over past thoughts and scares

But I know I cannot return to that dark place

I must keep moving forward

Enjoying my small pleasures

See the moon illuminate the sky

Feel the sun warming my bones again

Feed my brain - not destroy it

I will stay on the wise path, of that I am certain

And that thought makes my happy

Happier than the false chills of a brief hallucinatory delight. 

What Cold Is

What is cold

Cold is freshly fallen snow

Gathering at your ankles 

Like icing sugar dusted 

On a freshly baked sponge cake

Cold is cleaning your teeth 

And letting your brain sparkle and zing

Cold can be a jolt or a refreshing change

Cold can be touched, felt 

But is not tangible

Or is it your cold fingertips on a frosty day

Or a polished silver spoon

Ready to serve up jam

Cold can be a feeling inside

When everything overwhelms you

And you feel numb

Like an icicle 

Without cold we would not feel

The pleasure of the sun

Warming our faces on a spring day

Without cold blue skies

We would not see the lingering moon at dawn

Patches of stars fading as the day begins

Cold to me is bright and salient

An important way of marking time and space 

Of placing myself in the world

Cold is part of life 

And we can enjoy it 

If we so choose 

Like a mouthful of cake

It can melt like fairy dust on our tongues.

Room

I would like to build a strong brick room 

Sweep up the ashes and paint the walls yellow

And the ceiling white, clean and clear as the moon 

I would like to feel content in my room 

Safe and sound, strong and full of riches 

I can forgive myself my little set backs

They are part of being human 

But I must listen to the voice of the owl

Who sings on the wall at three am 

Trilling as I write - stay away from the Rabbit Hole

Too-wit, too-woo

How terrible it would be to fall again 

I do not wish to be sick

There is so much left to do 

I will drink rich, milky chocolate 

To take the taste of my errors away

The bad things leave a bitter taste 

And cause me sorrow after the initial pleasure 

A doomed cycle that I must resist 

The brick room is silent 

A place to rest and think but not a prison

In it I can shut my eyes and imagine faces 

If I am lucky hear her sweet, high voice

Stay well, stay well

I do not want to lose you

And in her, inside myself I find the truth

That I must always sweep the ashes and wipe the walls

Keep myself safe and my room shining like the sun.  

  

For Shay's Word Garden 

Battery

Sometimes it feels as if my battery 

Is running low

That I do not have the energy to greet the world

Or all the people in it

I have learnt that this is ok

That I can have absences

Moments of reflection 

Time for re-charging

And space to gather myself up 

And keep myself safe

To not fall into the trap of trying to belong 

To be comfortable of where I am 

And what it means to me 

I cocoon myself in words and cotton

Darkness and silence 

But I do not feel stuck -

All spent out

It feels like I am surviving, adapting

Perhaps even more

There are moments of stillness

Like flowers sitting in a vase

Times when the electricity stills

I see it as blue petals, paling, 

Like my eyes as they open

Always watching, at times adrift 

At times connected

But always being somewhere here

I keep a watchful eye on when 

Things are low 

And when things are high  

As long as I have some power inside 

I can run both body and mind.