healing
7 Reasons Why …
“ I dwell in possibility…”. – Emily Dickinson
7 reasons why me and alcohol are simply not a match any longer: –
1. In case of emergencies and who knows when there might be another one, I don’t want to be incapacitated because of having a drink.
2. Drinking alcohol no longer brings me joy.
3. Lately, I’ve been using alcohol to gain courage and gumption therefore showing up and not being genuine.
4. Alcohol is a gateway to other destructive behaviours and actions.
5. I’m no longer tasting it, really tasting it.
6. It’s been getting earlier and earlier in the day when I start drinking alcohol.
7. I’m drinking for all the wrong reasons.
When the wife leaves Without closing the door
In the shape of a tree,
my scar is painted with code.
Through the letting of blood, I wait
for the sound of my screams.
But what I do not plan for
is the mashed up sycamore spinners,
the trampled copper conkers
and the singed bramble bushes.
Graceless and broken,
I get high on the thoughts
of owning myself; the plumage
of starlings embroidered
on an intimate mind.
running free
Climbing trees, juicy mangoes
pliant flesh and ashy elbows
to be running free through the long grass
and burrs sticking to legs, gaze widening
no thought for shiny brown skin
causing hate, no thought for others
just green
Grief
grief shedding like leaves
appreciating the magic and sorrow
as it should be –
surrender and transform
Draft- Flipped inside out 002
I learn to be here, becoming,
as each riding curl of water,
rolls towards my toes
and retreats.
Nothing stays the same here
– liminal layered space/ place
Black Sea – Sea black.
Night is my skin …
These sands must testify
for the desires of the masters
and yet I stand here breathing
not doubting my back toes
digging in, claiming healing
All of Nature is Connected
In case you’re a kid who doesn’t have the right equipment,
and just in case you’re growing too big for your bones and
have to walk around in second-feet shoes,
take a moment to nestle in the autumn chilled grass,
lean in close, breathe in the slack conker smell and squint.
You might not have a magnifying glass but you can still
recognise kin. Ladybirds, beetles and ants.
Creatures of the earth. Overlooked and taken for granted,
caretake as you learn to nurture yourself into bloom.
Compassion for all parties involved
In a gondola steered by a bunny with pink
ears and white feathered wings, I rest.
Serene and floating upon a turquoise body of water,
I keep my eyes closed, keeping out the light,
keeping out thoughts of failure.
Let me just drift into the unknown
where there may be green shoots to suck
and damp grass to tinkle my toes.
Who knows, what’s around the bend.
All I know; I’m wearing my favourite bow,
my rubber giraffe is sinking like a ship
along with my rocking horse of dreams.
A Million Tiny Sherees
I feel like I’m holding a million little Sherees
in my arms and each one with a need to be fulfilled.
I’m lost, not knowing what to do for the best,
who to listen to the first. All are fragile and in pain.
They’re little me’s at different times in my life.
The little puffy afro-ed toddler.
The dreadlocked housewife.
The first school bunchies kind of kid.
The jet black straight haired newborn.
The baldy divorcee.
Mini Sherees all making noise
vying for my attention, craving love
wanting to be seen and healed.
I’m afraid one will slip through my fingers,
or I’ll break the neck of another.
It’s a huge responsibility to carry myself
alone. And not allowing one single Sheree in.
Living Wild Studios 