A Woman

What does she see when she looks in the mirror?
A wanderer or a lost soul?
Uncontrollable passion that hasn’t been expressed
Or wild dreams and big hopes she wishes to live, but hasn’t dared to yet?
She feels inky shadows and pain; they seem real and they haunt her.
They’re not real – they were made up, years ago, to protect her.
She sees them, she feels them – she goes back in time along tracks of memory where they can be found.
She sees the same woman, but not grown up yet – she’s a little baby
creating definitions of the world around her.
She meets her reflection – a warrior who loves to explore,
who enjoys laughter and freedom, makes choices and isn’t afraid anymore.
She smiles at herself, because she knows now – her heart is much stronger
than the memories her mind has been holding on for too long.
So who is she? A mother? A lover? A daughter? A child who’s afraid to grow up?
The more she lets people know her, the more they love her for her;
She’s a sacred and never fully understood mysterious language of gods,
a turbulent gust of cold air, she’s a fire, and the calm after a storm in the sea.
But more so than anything, she’s the master of her own infinite creative power and beautiful feminine essence designed to connect with the gods.

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Pretty Lies

In a moment of icy crystal like clarity
My wounded heart was beating so loud, in a dusky restaurant,
I was afraid that he would hear it and ask about the wide eyed look and rose-pink hot-flushed cheeks
When suddenly I saw my own fear infused, ever expanding, like a stain of blue ink on a white satin sheet, insanity.
What I was trying to achieve, perhaps not what, but how, it startled me, stabbed me to my core with a pair of cold, stainless steel scissors
By betraying my own tired heart, by going for something that has never been true for me which I knew right from the tangled-web-like start;
I hurt myself like a bird fallen from the sky that didn’t spread its wings and violently crashed to the cemented ground.
This wasn’t a life anymore, but pretty lies to me, my soul and I.
Running from my own truth. Lacking the courage to ignite a fire in my jaded heart. Not allowing myself to believe, not allowing to love.
Except that the lies weren’t pretty anymore.
And even though, out of marmite ridden guilt or maybe fear, I’ve still tried, the convincing, ghostly blindness which used to be my friend,
Didn’t have that hypnotic power over me anymore as much.
The truth has pierced its eyes wide open. It made me feel the flowery drops of dew in early morning on my thirsty skin. It’s slowly steered me towards a clearing in the bleak and shapeless day, perhaps it’s impelled me in the direction of love.
I was left alone. Again. To figure things out.
To choose yet another voyager sailboat in the stormy ocean, no, not even on solid ground.
Well, either that or stick to something that I’ve known – the pretty lies. The ones that I’ve been using to betray my own heart.
And all I needed to realise the truth was a conversation with the perfect stranger in a candlelit restaurant with casual yet stylish deco,
Where waiters smile at you and treat you like a king;
In the city restaurant filled with hope and expectations, of multiple hearts looking for home – to belong, to feel safe, to run wild and to accept themselves.
The arrogant stranger who shook me to my core, I thank him.
He tossed a shiny golden coin onto darkest ground and disappeared into his granite castle. And in that way he’s perfect. Never to be seen again yet never forgotten.
I picked up the coin with my cold, trembling hands and promised to my heart that I’d pay the price to listen to my soul until the language that it speaks to me feels finally like home.

A Fellow Londoner

Have you ever looked at a stranger and felt like you really want to talk to them? Have you? And how often has fear taken over?

It makes me think of the many times I’ve spotted people (especially on the tube) that I would have liked to connect with, but did’t dare to open my mouth. Why? Because of fear, of course. You know, just in case they don’t respond, laugh at me or look at me like I’m a complete nutter. And just think of all those masses of people in the same carriage who will get to see it! That’s pretty scary, right?

There have been, however, some other times when I did overcome the resistance and said hello, which led to some interesting conversations, laughs, book recommendations, feeling that we all are connected and some pleasant memories. So in light of these recollections here’s my latest poem.

Oh fellow Londoner, who are you?
Where are you going this misty morning?
I see your face so very often, on central line,
Ah, that mundane London underground commuter’s journey.

As you looked down at your phone on Monday, I saw you smile.
Was it a message from your loved one?
Or did you see a funny joke on Facebook
posted by one of your five hundred friends?

On Tuesday you seemed stressed.
Was it how you really felt?
Or was your face just a reflection

of what’s going on in my own life?

On Friday you looked up at me and smiled;
I thought you’d say hello but we both, I guess, were shy.
I often wonder why? I’d sensed we would have enjoyed a chat, yet
we avoided connection and gave in to fear.

Fear speaks to me – it has a voice.
That haunting voice, in my head, it often tells me things.
‘Stay quiet, as you may get rejected. What will people say?
They will judge. Don’t you know your place?’

Ah, but hold on. I’ve heard it all before.
Sounds just like my dad and mama teaching me to how to be in life.
There’s being good and bad, doing what you’re expected, and not talking back.

We grow up, but are we ever told that we’re not children anymore?
So when do we stop identifying with what we’re not allowed?
Oh fellow Londoner, next time we meet I hope we’ll speak.
Perhaps a brief exchange, a polite hello or maybe this encounter will lead to something more?

To find out we’ll have to overcome that gripping fear,
Risk to be ridiculed and open our hearts.
Possibilities in life are truly limitless – I know, letting go is tough, yet
vulnerability offers rewards far beyond what you and I could ever grasp.

What is Love?

‘What is love?’ I quietly ask myself
When I sit on a window ledge in my bedroom at night.
The older I get the more answers seem to emerge;
Full moon has mesmerized me and I feel its mysterious pull yet again.

When I was a young child I learned to love my family, my dog and my friends;
Most of all I loved my imagination which seemed to be wild, pure and hardly contained.
Laying down on my back in a meadow I would gaze at clouds with ever growing wonder;
I built castles in the sky and jumped from one cloud onto another.

I used to see creatures: a dragon, a rabbit, a prince and his lover,
Fairies and birds chasing each other.
My heart would be filled with joy and innocent laughter
Until grandma would call me for lunch, oh how could she be so distracting?

As everything passes and changes in nature
And so I grew into someone more responsible and older.
I kept my natural curiosity though, childishness and wonder
And roamed free in a forest with animals so close to my nature.

School and teenage years taught me silly romance:
Daydreaming, wanting to connect and hold hands.
Did I really love a boy when I was so young?
Or was it just a concept picked up from mum’s books and TV programmes?

And when I got older I thought I knew what real love was:
Meeting someone, getting infatuated and question if that was enough.
There would be something missing so deep inside
Yet I didn’t know how to fill it so let romance take care of that.

I wasn’t aware of consciousness, of us all being one yet
So I kept looking outside of myself for happiness.
I wondered why this love thing didn’t last, didn’t give what I craved
And I heard in the night silent whisper, ‘it’s because you have to find it within’.

So self-love then became an alien concept;
Why is it so easy to love others even when they make mistakes?
Why am I so hard on myself and feel lost in constant self-criticism and blame?
And what does it mean that people, I am close with, are mirror aspects of me?

And then years of learning, reflection, growth and self-discovery took place;
I and self-love have finally made it – we are now friends.
I want to hold hands with all aspects of me: my ego, my sadness and my destiny.
And as I reflect back on my life I realise that I’ve had it all along:
My soul – it’s pure love and it’s never been lost.

Simplicity is often the key – calm down the mind, look around and make peace with yourself.
Accept where you are yet keep dreaming, trust your intuition and follow its wisdom.
Take necessary steps and remember – the force is with you;
As long as you have enough courage to face inner shadows it will take you where you belong.

 

Believe in Yourself

When you believe in yourself you’re charged with positive vibes.
No goals seem unachievable and wherever you look you see sparks.
Yet life isn’t always like that – it can hit you hard with a brick;
It will crush dreams, inner peace and your vision,
But just take one step back and remember: you gotta hold that belief.
When you walk through life you will fall down and stumble,
But in the end what determines your journey, will be, how bright was your light.
So dare to be brave, open, unique. Believe in yourself – reach for your dreams.
Seek for help and ask questions, but remember: the real power lies deep within.
You’re the light and the darkness. You are me. I am you.
So be your own love, be your shadow; raise consciousness and always be you.