No One Knows

there is no use pretending
you are what you are
denial is the slowest form of pain
like a storm cloud
it will eventually soak you with rain
drenched until you feel the sting on skin
the chill that reaches deep within


when the one who should know
sits and silence grows
you know that the pieces will remain
scattered
a puzzle that simply cannot be solved
no one knows


darkness 
you drink it in
until sunlight comes 
creeping in
heavy hand falls 
covering your eyes
pillow plumpness
smothering your sighs
let me fall back down

want to be free
from the pain
that radiates
from within

raw 

ragged

raging

real

bony fingers
curl and clasp
clawing until
at last you gasp
let me go
leave me be

penetrating pain
stealing life
licking marrow 
from your bones
tongue probing
scooping out
the core
til suddenly silently yell
no more


this pain
has no name
but it's here 
to stay
it wants
to play 
but I'm not game


tight coils slowly unfurling
soft seduction
drawing you in
slow breaths 
give life to sleep 

sinking
falling
weightless
unanchored
free
void of feeling


but then you hit
hard ground
sends you reeling
bone on bone
flesh begins to groan
opening wide
tears too spent 
to be cried
ache until you ache no more

you don't have 
to do this on your own
share the load 

late morning breaks
with open eyes
leaves you wondering
if t'was full of lies
caught in a sleeping hell
too distant now
so hard to tell

stupid and weak
wake up to yourself
don't dwell
stop to smell the roses
and
no one will ever tell

no one knows

Falling Through A Simple World ...Part Two

Nothing to call my own. Not right now. Not today. Feel too foreign; disconnected from what it is that I know. 

Where have you gone and where have you been? Suddenly a gaping chasm by my side and there is nothingness falling around me. Sometimes a blurred wetness like rain that pours persistently and then as a slow, meandering drift like snowflakes from a leaden greyish blue sky. What to do and where to go. But most pertinently, what should I feel? Right now. Please someone tell me. Guide me. Lead me. Direct me. Take charge. I don't want to have to try. Try. Not anymore. I am tired. 

I don't want to have to choose. Please. Set me free. For christ's sake. Just let me be.

I am feisty. I fight. I am principled. I have integrity. Yes. It is true. But I am so spent. I have nothing left to give. I don't want to have to try. Not anymore. I don't want to have to give it all away. Please come to me. Be here. Take a breath. Remind me that I like you. Days pass. And emptiness fills me. But it is not real. It is a vacuous fill that I feel. 

All my instincts. They mutter and they moan. They are burning. Burning deep. Should I embrace or should I simply ignore? I cannot wait another day. Please. Offer me something that will keep this pain at bay. It is dark and I am so over it all. I just need to stand in your arms. Feet not tiptoeing but letting you come to me. Just relax. Let you come to me. 

But I am here. You are there. I am. Not complete. Not warmed or touched. I burn when I cry but I cannot keep it here. I need release. Set me free. Say my name. Call me out. Test my thoughts. My mind. My funky, funny, wonderful head. 

The heart that you have caught is weakly beating. Trapped and constrained in the tangled net of my former family. Set me free. I cannot bear this. I never thought that I could be here with someone who holds my heart. Put your arms around me and give me that life saving breath. I am so pressured. So constrained.

Conflicted. 

A word that hangs heavy. You cannot see right through these walls but you, yes YOU, you will feel where I am. Right now. Lost and on the verge of drowning. Help me. Give me that first rescue breath. I hope that see you right through what I am saying and what I don't dare let escape... 

Hold me. Say nothing. Give me your strength. I will do my best to be there for you before you ever fall. But for me, right now, this is the most truly abhorrent place to be. 

Please catch me because I am already falling...

                                                           Through a simple world.

Falling Through A Simple World... Part One

What to decide when the pain rains relentlessly hard inside. The inevitable lurch of your stomach when you remember. Not through conscious thought but a blurred moment that washes across your mind's eye like silent soap suds in a slow motioned car wash. Then you are here somehow in the present. And it feels pointy and you don't like the way this hurts.

Not jarring and definitely not jolting. Just a heartless hollowness that hangs heavy. And it is not you. Your heart is warm and full. Charged by those around you, electrical impulses dancing in simple synchronisation. It shouldn't feel like this. A missed beat. A significant shift in life's rhythm.

WHY?

One minute so happy.

So high.

Light. Giddy.

Filled with heady helium happiness.

A warmth that radiates from within. So buoyant that each breath I take expands that exhilaration almost to bursting point. A new found freshness that courses through me like a sharp intake of extra strong pepperminty breath.

A week ago I was alive. Free from time. 

Everything I saw, touched, tasted and savoured encased with a sweet golden glow. The trees that breathed and swayed did so in harnessed harmony. The wheat fields bobbed and bowed before me. Gently beckoning: be one of us. I toyed with the idea of diving in between the sheaths of virgin green. To feel the scratchiness against my softened skin before collapsing, spine hard against the flat earth, shining eyes mirroring the vastness of blue overheard.

Inviting. There was no pretence. Just real. I didn't want to hide. I was almost out. I was so utterly present. On top of the world no matter where my feet stood. The smooth stone sculpture a calming coolness against the backdrop of sun drenched warmth. 

A tactile creature? 

Yes. 

But that means I feel.

I hurt.

I feel hurt. 

You sense the whistling glint of his arrowhead as it streaks through the air; anticipating the first hot metallic sting on your skin. And as it makes that first contact you feel the increasing pressure as it slowly punctures your first layer of love. You brace yourself. Pull your skin tight offering up a barrier. But he drives that point in. At first, you feel nothing. Too shocked to retrieve the scrambled message of pain. But it drives deeper. Down to the next layer. A penetrating single entry. Numbness no more. Driven home hard. Again and again. You get it. You feel it. You brace but you know that you will finally buckle. Crumpling under the excruciating pain of this unrelenting assault. 

You fumble for a shield. Protect your child. You come second. When that protection is ripped away, you do the only thing that is left. You reflect. Redirect those blows. Send them ricocheting off you haphazardly. You hesitate. Momentarily you question yourself. Where will this end? What have you done? But within that split second of doubt, there it was. The final blow. An arrow to the heart. 

And as I am hit hard, I feel a sense of swirliness as still-shots of my Odyssey flood my mind. Hills and vineyards. Plum red liquid rolling around voluptuous glasses. Gravel and grass. Liquid orange flames. Time to Wander. Pink. 

Two worlds collide into one. Sublime bliss  dissipating rapidly into this. 

And as I try to stem the flow, these vivid images begin to wash away and my colourful warmth fades to a steely cold. 'Don't contact me for four weeks,' I say. No emotion. There was more but I cannot recall the words or sounds because once turned cold, I harden. 
Feel no more. Defences up to protect my warmly filled heart. 

I take my child by her hand and lead her out into the darkened night. 

And we walk. Alone. Together in silence. 

Falling through a simple world. 



To be continued...

WASHING AWAY...

Don't leave me here to drown

Facade like a clown

These things keep me pushing down

I just wanna escape this town

I've given all I can to keep all right

Just know I might be outta fight

Yes 

Those dark clouds keep rolling in

And I don't wanna be trapped within

Reach out now to take my hand

Gently lead me to a new land

Smiles slipping silently away

Replaced with cement sighs of ghostly grey

Not sure I can face yet another day

Of heavy hearts that will be here to stay

Maybe just maybe

Sparks of brighter light 

Will reach down to me

And let me know I'll be all right

Unanchored and alone I'm left

Floating weightlessly, bereft

Of all the colours that made me me

Soft watercolours washing away

New Beginnings

And nothing more 

Grain of rice

Not seen before

Seed of life

Rush of love 

Centre of hope

A warm spark 

A gift of life

Not just to self

But to mother to be

A lifeline

Reached deep down within 

And pulled her out 

Gasping for breath

She's been underwater for far too long

Muted sound, soul-less song

Scattered thoughts

Blowing aimlessly in the wind

I tried hard to find her hand

Clasp it tight

Lead her with me through the night

Briefly held, I smiled again

She slipped silently 

Down once more into 

The darkest corner of 

Her mind

Lost

Fallen

My child burrowed into

The poisonous chamber of my heart

And I wanted her out

She did not belong there

But now

This gentle glimmer of hope

Holds her transfixed

Caught here

In the now

Head above water

Learning to breathe

A protective fold

Has taken its hold

And I embrace 

This change in face

My child is coming back

She has been gone for too long

Fighting

So strong

The tiniest heart beat

Begins right here

Pulsing with life

Time to smile

Moments to cherish

Pride swells

As she sheds her childish charms

One by one

Hope

I hope that this hope hangs on

Hold tight

Keep that love alight

Baby Bean... 

I hope that I may meet you one day

Reeling Feelings....

So how do I feel today?  

What should I feel on the day that follows that moment when everything changes all that has come before? When you stand frozen, stock still in time; caught between the past, the present and the future?

Yes. My daughter is pregnant. Just hearing those words silently swirl around my muddled mind as I watch as my fingers lightly touch these keys. Yes. She is pregnant. She has a partner. They may not be living together but they are in a relationship. And there is intent and intentions. 

My pregnant daughter. Excited, effusive, nervous and emotional. She is nineteen years old but is so very, very young. She is still navigating her way through an emotional roller-coaster and her own inner turmoil. And that is before the glimmer of a baby bean. A seed. 

She is catapulted full pelt now; staring towards her future as a mother. And right now she is a mother to be. My child.

So how do I feel today? 

      SAD        

There, I have said it out loud. 

SAD.

A heart that hangs that bit heavier inside me. 

Full of the burdens that are bestowed upon me as a parent. 

This occasion should be spectacular; brimming with the shiny excitement of the bubbling unknown. The precious gift of new life. But I am not there yet. 

There are no bubbles. 

Just flatness.

 And I feel sad 

that I don't feel joy.

      ALONE        

There is no one I know here who can really relate to where I am. 

Right now.

Un-anchored from my core as a parent.

I feel alone.

I also know that my daughter will be feeling alone somehow. 

It doesn't matter that I am here for her. I am.

She will feel that gentle tugging on all that she knows as those fraying threads 

of normality 

snap 

one 

by 

one. 

I don't want her to ever experience how I felt as I gingerly journeyed into motherhood. 

Without my own mother.

She was alive.

She was present somewhere nearby.

But I was alone.

And every day that my growing daughter's presence pulsed within my body I could no longer relate to a mother that would reject their own child.

But I am not my mother.

I will never be her.

I am me.

And, in turn, my daughter is not me.

We have shared a bond that has withstood so much.

Is it unbreakable? 

Time will tell. 

This is her time now. 

But I am still alone.

     EMPTY       

My daughter has now gone. 

She will never ever be the same child again.

No matter what happens next. 

I have lost someone who has been a part of me for so long.

Gone. 

And I feel empty too because I believe that I have given her my all.

All that I can.

All that I ever could.

And in the wake of a broken marriage, I have carried her tirelessly. 

But I am feeling depleted.

Dejected. 

But this is me.

I have been deeper and darker.

I will come back

AND

I won't feel emptiness for long.

I will rise up again and 

I will continue to give.

Give to my child, 

to my grandchild.

AND

to myself.

     ANGER      

Finally.

I have found myself.

My truth.

My core.

I have reached the time for me.

To experience, 

To live,

To breathe,

To laugh,

To love.

To keep my chest up and face the future. 

No matter what comes next.

I have sacrificed so much for so long 

Finally.

I am free.

Free 

to feel

to breathe

to live 

to laugh 

and to 

love.

And I don't want to be pulled back.

I don't want to be held back.

I want to forge forward.

Surging with renewed passions and vitality.

To skip barefoot in the sand

and to dance in the rain.

To sit in the warm pool of sunlight 

That surrounds me.

       EXCITED       

My child is carrying her own.

A little life is in its fluttering infancy.

Unfurling and latching on.

Holding tight.

And when this seeps into my thoughts, 

spreading like warm ink across a blotting pad,

I catch my breath.

It is a miracle.

A mother to be.

It is astounding

Astonishing

Overwhelming.

Like the anticipation of a momentous wave, my stomach lurches. 

I am caught up and carried higher and higher.

Until finally, as I fight to stay at the top of this thought,

the bottom of my rational world falls out

and everything drains away.

And with one last 

crash

every conceivable 

emotion

washes 

over me

I remain afloat.

Inflated.

Buoyant.

This is how I feel. Right here. Right now. Right in the moment....

Identity Crisis

 27 mins...

Like a sticky web, intricately woven, tight knit and indestructible; an individual’s identity is not often laid bare. 

Rarely questioned, unpicked or unravelled but accepted as a whole entity. Never challenged for what it appears to be. An unassuming but powerful existence; the all encompassing sense of self. It is not until something traumatic, large and overpowering comes to crack this wholeness, that the fragility of identity is truly realised. 

To be an unwilling paralysing participant of this un-relentless unravelling is to lose a sense of control. This loss is tolerable but as the thread continues to be tugged and pulled, it leads most significantly to a loss of self. To experience that tremor, the first deep crack that resonates deep within, penetrating the pure core of one’s existence, is nothing but surreal. 

It is easy to embrace denial. Hiding from the cold and clinging clamour of fear. But it takes hold; silently and deadly as it snakes systematically through the body. Subtly attacking and invading. It is a dichotomy of emotion as the constriction commences. Denial deepens, ironically feigning familiarity as it rewires the body signals. Symptomatically, it will become a reassuring reminder of feelings and senses when the rest of you remains detached and cold. What and who am I? Questions. Thoughts. Doubts. All interspersed with periods of nothingness. 

It is only when you are forced to recognise that you are truly broken that the slow process of picking up the proverbial pieces of your former self starts. The fragments that lay scattered around you appear both alien and alienating. 

To lose the central core of character is worse than death itself. After all, death promises peace and tranquility; a never ending silence. To question who you once were and who you can now become is an endless terrifying silent scream, wrenching through your gut, ripping out your cortex. 

Denial deepens, befriending you as a doppelganger of death. Fatigue is rife and you cannot fight as denial once again feigns familiarity. You slip subconsciously further into the depths of denial. Pretence protecting you from the pain.  

Identity is a person's conception and expression of your own self. Own - that paradoxical word meaning it belongs to you, to have rightful possession and also is of your own doing. But something external has raped you of this self expression. Those around you travel alongside, failing to recognise the onset of the inner turmoil that you face. Maybe, just maybe, one day they will understand. But for now, you are here. Physically and emotionally isolated. The cliched shadow of your former self. 

When in public arenas, you scramble to reassemble those projected pieces of predictable personality. The automated responses and the shiny outer shell of front, unite to ward off unwanted attention. 

Who has the right to rob one of their own identity? Who is prepared for this ongoing arduous assault?

Part of the painful, probing process is the gradual realisation that the fabrications of self are so delicate. 

To pull on one single thread can be the deconstructive demise of decades of a determined dedication to life. 

Now you simply resemble that one loose thread; 

weak, undefined and simply drifting...

Crimson Tide

Scar tissue.

You only need to look at my body to know. 

Although wounds heal, time shows the true depth of damage. Penetrating. The physical build up of the residual unrest in my body.

You stare in the mirror and sunken eyes reluctantly return the reflection;  echoing an emptiness. These are not yours. This is not you.  You know that you have fallen so much further than you could have ever even dared to imagine. 

You don’t recognise your own face  anymore. You can’t feel any physical connection with your body. All you can do is sense. You sense the silent sucking of your soul as it seems to slip further away. Your self, once defined, is deflating without dignity.  How can you hang onto something that you can no longer feel? That fails to feel familiar or safe? When people speak of being kidnapped by things that are indeterminable,  is this what it feels like? To have your body, mind and soul hijacked and to be left with one thing; nothing more. Just an achingly raw, deep pain inside, boring into the crumbling calcification of your once strong spine.  You are no longer aware of your breathing, your heart beat or your connection to anything tangible. 

I look again. The eyes evoke emptiness. There is no warmth, glimmer of hope or sadness.

The light has seeped out of them. 

Like thick blood from a tired wound 

I struggle to wrestle with my reflection but all that is returned, is passive. A neutral nothingness that fails to resonate with me.  I am dying. 

Death. The thing that defies so many. Dying. Not in the true physical or spiritual sense. But it is  here. Death. Inching towards me, its full belly dragging along the ground as it snakes its way slowly, soullessly, almost seductively before it somehow secures itself around one of my listless limbs. 

I am in the clutches of death. 

A sense of purpose. Belonging. Direction.
I know this now and the gnawing pain that steals sleep from my mind and warmth from my body has been the early warning that my imminent death is just that.
Imminent.    Impending. Irrepressible.

The only interruption to this monotonous muted muddle is when the blackness rolls in. 

I understand more so than ever what it means to be merely existing. I have lost the connection with the earth. Lost the connection with myself, my body and my senses - I cannot seem to be present. I fight awkwardly against the folds and creases of my conflicting thoughts. Thoughts that dully drag themselves back and forth inside my head as day blurs into night. Blending into the white noise that they have now become. A background dialogue to my existence that could be my preparation for the goodbye as my identity slips soundlessly from my grasp.  

Thundering against the hollowness of my skull the blackness builds. It ricochets from one side to another - echoing and repeating until I am forced to listen. 

A black cleaver that slices through the intricate web of negativity, showing me a different way. A crimson red line that draws me closer to the possible escape. 

The get-out.

I need to. 

But there has been no public shedding to indicate a period of change for me. No signs or subtle signals. Yet, I am fearful of the eyes turning to me. I may be crying out for help but it is so buried, so silenced, so much more than strangled. 

I must remove myself from this coffined pain in which I have become so senselessly cocooned.  

Can anyone really hear me? Can they see what I truly am? A shell of my former self. I just am. The ache is here. I just am. The ache is here. I just am.

I AM.

More than suffocated. I am castrated.

 Now I am left. 

Just left.

Eyes are powerful and when they rest upon me, the burning, crushing sense overcomes me. Perhaps one day I will be seen. Finally uncovered and left bare, naked and raw. 

Naked and raw like a newborn baby thrust into the world with no preparation, no knowledge; forced into the bright lights and artificial world that begin to engulf it. The baby is clutched by those close, clamouring to make that connection and so the smothering and suffocation begins. 

The blackness floods my mind teasing my thoughts. Lucid. Vivid. Brief.

But I am fearful of the crimson red that 

woefully weeps as the 

blackness bleeds through the white noise. 

The crimson tide has an allure; a shine. 

It is mesmerising. 

I begin to feel consciousness as I allow myself to be carried along inside its ebbs and flows. 

I feel protected as the dark red engulfs me, giving me weak warmth and heartless hope. 

I can escape the banality of what I have become. 

No more white noise and empty soul. 

The red and black swirl and dance, whipping up the thoughts that are coming into focus. 

There is nothing left.

I have nothing left.

Nothing.

              Left.              

                                                Just let me 

                                GO

A Lifting of a Layer?

Solitary Solace in Shanghai

T’s Tuesday Talk

2nd June 2015

                                                                                           Be Gentle and Be Here 

I am here on a journey of a lifetime - and you have squeaked into my life somehow just now - so unforeseen, unexpected and unanticipated. And with this ‘squeak,’ has come a renewed flame, passion and sensibility - maybe not even renewed but actually new… I am being candid here and with that I feel exposure and vulnerability. 

It is not something that I show very often.  But, I want you to know that you have encouraged and enthused me and this has led me to write, express, share, tell and laugh and FEEL. No one knows what lies ahead of each of us or what may come as a speed bump, detour or ‘pass GO’ and collect the winnings. I just want to say HI and THANK YOU. I don’t know if you are affecting this planned journey of a lifetime - but…

You ask me things; causing me to live in the moment, to reflect and to consider. I enjoy that. 

You also react differently and show your ‘cut and dried/did I miss it’ side which, for some very odd reason, makes me smile… You can go from ‘here is my emotion, I am feeling it and this is what it is,’ to ‘I emptied the shed and will be putting it in my neighbour’s bin at MIDNIGHT,' (would there be any other time??) in less than a blink of an eye…but I can’t. When I put myself out there-  it sits, lingers and nudges me until I look at it some more. Who is right? Neither. We are who we are but I think that we are seeing, learning and teaching - that has to be a commonality perhaps? There was a sentence here that followed but I backspaced…too many people tell me that I over think. Perhaps I should listen more?

It is late-ish and I have a date with a tour bus tomorrow. My god. I have never done stuff like this solo before. I stayed to eat breakfast on my own in a foreign country, I walked the streets in the pouring rain and fought off hawkers selling me brollies, I have been writing for myself and I have been dreaming for myself. 

This is totally new territory. 

I am and have always been independent, fiercely so, but there is something that is different after a long, long relationship. I have given myself time. Time to be. Time to cry, to hurt, to anger and to reflect and time to heal. Time to rediscover me. I am capable; I am strong and I have skills, ideas, visions and aspirations but there is a BUT and I have not quite fathomed it out just yet. The last time I looked inside here, I was probably 18 and I had all the feistiness, zest and naivety that made me feel alive.

You know what it is? I am starting to feel stuff - life and people stuff and that is so incredibly empowering, exciting and nerve wracking. If I was 18, I would just up sticks and change stuff because I could and I would not have the cautionary curtailment that I feel today. 

OKAY - totally exposed ramblings. More of a Dear Diary entry - shit, I should so have kept one all these years…..

Sometimes I should be this softer side of me.
But it is too hard.

. 

It is like a long look into my eyes; people may really see and feel me. 

Not even my family do that. 

I just wouldn't let them.