Witness

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There is a bravery that comes from being able to look at yourself in the mirror and see what the world has done to you and you, in turn, to the world. Too often people spend time pretending they’re perfect. They lie to their mirrors and tell their eyes that they’re ok. Eyes are the biggest liars in the world. They see only what they think you want to see but they do not show you what must be witnessed.

Witness the homeless man on the street corner without drugs you presume he takes.

Witness the children, starving on television screens and don’t convince yourself they’re actors in some Oscar winning scene.

Witness the lie of those whose mouths curve upwards, when you make a joke at their expense.

Remember that pain is not often witnessed, by indicators you have grown up to believe.

 

 

Beauty & Starvation

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If you have nothing at all then you have nothing to lose.

This is the flawed philosophy I carry around like a tonne of bricks tied to my back. I don’t believe I willingly choose this state of thinking. Sometimes thoughts simply become you – a result of all your experiences.

Are we not the total sum of everything that made us? (or unmade us?)

I saw a picture last night of a young boy. His skin was practically touching bone and his eyes were deep black pools. It was as if no soul existed behind his face. Like it had been sucked away by circumstance.

We are all born into different circumstances.

I was born into a circumstance where food was given to me as comfort, and eyes were given to make me uncomfortable.

He was born into a circumstance where food was rarely given, and I’m sure that is more uncomfortable than the unhappiness I feel when I look into the mirror.

I think about food and what it’ll do to my hips.

For a long time I never truly considered the millions of souls dragging their hips along the dirt, gasping for breath.

I wonder about the tears they would shed if shown my local grocery store. I also wonder about the reflections I stop to stare at in every mirror of every store. How I examine every curve, every line, every fold.

And lastly, I think about how I never stop to consider, the beauty of a nourished soul.

 

 

 

 

Sisterhood

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There is a joy of sisters

who know both the Sun and the Moon of our soul

and the constellations of our mind

Who breathe the light that radiates from our eyes

and grieve with us the death of a smile

Who know the beauty of a teardrop

falling gently on a naked shoulder

The salty sting to bind them in

an embrace only felt by sculptures

 moulded side by side

Summertime

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There’s an invisible barrier

separating my skin from the warm caress of this Thursday afternoon

A shield to guard the realm of my infinite body

the one inside that sometimes sneaks out to play under the summertime sun

One that kisses the molecules of water

rising unbeknownst to most men

I shyly embrace the flowers between my toes

as  though they had snuck here in a sinister manner

like the neighbour boy

through a window

trying not to be seen

My feet and hands walk the wooden stairs to my manicured garden

turning away from the freshly trimmed grass to admire the weeds

and watch I will

the wavering clouds that say goodbye with such delight

They will not rain down today

and wash away this infinite girl who glides through the day

as one glides on ice

 

Neighbourly

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There is this human predicament

that grows in a place

we believe our hearts to live

It’s that sudden impulse

to turn away

when the fear of lingering eyes

and another human’s thoughts

force us to retreat

as though we are so sure of defeat

in this war of concern

~

The myth of standing out and being seen

There’s a cat that cries but you do not comfort

because you never paid the money for it

It’s the myth of money in exchange for ownership

and so I let it cry

~

Once again I retreat inside

to the comfort of a couch

paid for with my very own fantasy

The ultimate lie, I think

is that we step on stones

afraid to move one from its place

Multi-coloured minerals made into a multitude of shapes

admired for the difference

and yet I shudder as my feet kick them

from that comfortable place called “next door neighbour’s home”

just as I shudder to pat the cat

following me down the road

White Chocolate

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I crave the delicacy of white chocolate

the sweet hot delight to warm my cold disposition

The embrace of its arm around my throat

not to choke

but to caress me from my waking state

into a dream with thick buttery rivers

and days sunken into the grass

soaking under the Sun

watching this chocolate world melt around me

into new forms

new places to explore

new, beautiful things to make me cry

 

 

Trees

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I am the wild wind

in a world where trees sprout out of the ground

just to breathe me in

Ten kilometres in the air

they will grow

and they will fall

with the ebbing and flowing

of these lungs beneath my chest

~

This world of trees was made for me

and when the mountains rise up

to impede my way

I will bounce off the various surfaces

sometimes smooth

sometimes rough

~

But every time

I will find my way through the cracks

the crevices

and I will find myself on the other side of that mountain

greeting these trees

that sprouted just for me