Peace

Last night I had the strangest dream

I’ve never dreamed before

I felt safe

At peace

No longer running 

No longer hurting

Waging war against myself 

It is like warm water

Flowing over my skin

Soothing and soft

It is like smiling 

Not screaming

Of knowing that the softer I speak

The more I will be heard 

Not that I ever dealt in tears and shouting 

That was not my thing

Not that anyone tried to understand

Peace comes form inside 

But is hard in a world of turmoil 

Perhaps all we can do is live our best lives

Not hurt anyone or hold resentment 

My dream will carry me along for a while 

It is gentle, like cotton

I listen for peaceful voices

Watch for peaceful scenes

In this way my world improves

And war seems far away. 

The Living and The Dead

I do not remember the ambulance (s)

I was not asleep

It was further  

The world switched off

Turned black 

They cut my clothes off

Not peeled

Something that makes it harder to escape

If and when the world exists again

It feels harsh

Like attacking a tin with a can-opener

I always remember the anger of waking up 

Being in hospital 

Where people never touched me 

Or touched me grudgingly or to restrain me

Always with gloves on 

Like I am a nothing more than a cactus

Or poison ivy

Nobody has been willing to make me whole again 

Are tears salty?

I only remember blood 

Red and pooled on my lips and hands 

It is almost a relief that what I do 

Is left unchecked now 

Although it is not safe

I will watch the sparrows and tulips 

Whilst I can 

The world may not be glittering 

But at least when it is time

I will know what to do 

In and by my hands only

Certain that I understand the difference between

The living and the dead. 

For Shay's Word Garden

Choice

Sometimes it feels that any choice I made

Every path I went down 

Would have ended in the same destination

And outcome 

If it truly was a choice 

And not the only option I could see and find

Perhaps that is why I chose tea and cake and Alice

Because there are no paths left

Or maybe two 

Survive or perish 

I hope that one day survival will morph into life

But I am too tired to keep walking on

Pathways of broken glass 

The happiest time was when I disconnected 

From my mind

It felt free, like a child playing

Explorative, curious and open 

Things others judged as bad or wrong

Were how I made it this far

I didn’t leave them behind

But the consequences for me 

Are a disconnected life with no other paths in sight

I feel suffocated and squashed 

As if I cannot be my true self 

The real me

At least I can lay myself out in my words

Like a platter of sparkling red apples

Cool and sweet on the tongue. 

Poetry Is ...

Poetry is my door and window

One I can lock

One I can open

And inhale

Sweet as apple air

Poetry is my friend and saviour

Something I have discovered for myself

Something that can’t be stolen

But stronger now

If some were lost

I would not worry

Because there are always more words

Poetry is bright

Like the sun

Falling on waves

Put not so bright it hurts

Poetry is a world 

Bigger than Wonderland

Better than reality 

Poetry has been a lifeline 

A time and place

To be myself 

Poetry is the love of words

Sharing

Splitting

Stopping

Like a deep breath

Poetry is my past

Present

And future

For now it helps me live

Far richer

Than other path

I could have chosen

Poetry is a penny on my tongue.

Tenderness

I hope I can hold you tenderly in my arms

When we have both healed 

Feel safe and are ready for a different love 

It has been a long, dark and dangerous affair 

Our lives

We broke like winter daisies 

Or solitary orchids 

There has been enough madness 

And stones in our pockets 

It is amazing - that our spirits have not been broken 

Despite the shattering glass

The spying and our vulnerability 

Now is the time of our summer 

For gentleness and loving touch 

Perhaps there is more than writing our own books

Turning out pages of words instead of breaking down 

Perhaps I am more worldly now

Although perhaps we have both been since birth 

We are the art who wrote ourselves 

I wish you love, for ever and ever dearest sister 

Let us both feel happy and safe

I think we both hope for tenderness in each others' lives.

For Shay's Word Garden

Youth Has No Age

In my dreams I skip and play 

Like she does, tripping over primroses

Carefree, smiling and unrestrained from 

The difficult years in-between 

I don’t understand childhood

Or what it means to age

I am stumbling not skipping

Into the future

But it feels ok

Like putting a road between me

And a dark cloud 

Dodging rain and hail

The ominous beast that has always lingered

A heaviness in and on my head 

I like that with age comes a different 

Kind of liberation 

Being able to live how you wish

Having space to dream and hope

And have no one crush you down

So small like a spider in a jar

Strange, I feel younger now

Than I ever did

But further from being like Alice

Perhaps indeed youth has no age

It is how you feel

How comfortable you are 

To keep on skipping and playing

In your own unique way. 

Seeds

If I plant a wish in my heart, will it grow

I hold her hand in mine

Of course Little Cricket

Eventually all wishes come true

Of that I hope and dream

We are lying in the sun

Watching the bubble gum clouds

Walk slowly across the sky

Soon we will age another year

Time seems to slip away

Like water

What would your wish be?

I don’t have to think too long

Peace and quiet and restful sleep 

Gently that moves into play 

With each lesson a new day brings

Sometimes I don’t know if we are stuck 

Or making progress 

A little of both perhaps

The birds sing in the trees 

We listen to them 

So strong in their worlds 

Thoughts and wishes are like seeds

That grow into mighty trees

Upon the branches we will finally get to sing.