Stepping Up

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It was one of those turbulent days when you forget that rubbing your eyes this hard could possibly leave you with no lashes, when the comfort of your bed makes an unreasonable case escaping responsibility, when the present is hazed by a head full of voices of past mistakes and a heart curdling with the uncertainty of the future. In that moment, you look up and find the stillness and streaks of light you yearned for within you. You pick up the monster machine lying under your pillow and let some of this light in through its lens. This moment is crucial, for after that, you close your eyes for a minute, step up, and step out of bed.

To small victories, each day.

Roots

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Try to wash the dirt off my leaves,
The sun would make the drops fly,
Brown would coagulate,
And then you’d sigh.
Green would sprout
With an outward brightness,
An inward progress, shining loud,
Only if you water my roots
That burrow far from the hyped cloud…

 

Madness

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What is this strange thing that occludes her insides
Like dried paint in small, old glass bottles,
Solid and unmoving,
Its cracks making a case for the time it’s been left undisturbed
And unwanted.
This feeling within her of worms gnawing
At a surface she can’t smear with make up
Or hide under a fort of pillows.
This action spurting out of her
Seeming like a storm flying makeshift roofs off a slum.
All these shadows dancing around her,
Trying to convince her that they don’t need light to exist.
What is this madness
Keeping her from all she’s capable of,
From all she could fight and become.
All they are too ignorant to see.
And she,
She’s too tired to try.
All she does is fall,
Doze off, forget,
Looking for an ouster at the very outset.

Compromise

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Bugs,
I’ve let them colonise,
Harbour inside,
Create their own paradise.
Words,
I hear hollow advice,
They’re cold water,
To my wounds,
I taste the lies.
Mirrors
Bring to light
My spots and lines,
Cut, seep, squeeze out
Demons mine.
Darkness
Guzzles my mind
In one swig,
Clear and precise.
There’s no out,
Just in,
So I smile,
Learn to live
With these sighs.

The Tale of the Mistletoe

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“Oh, don’t ever harm Baldur!”

Beseeched Frigg to each n’ every one.

But overlooking the mistletoe

Brought death to her precious son.

She wept and howled, distraught,

Her tears forming white berries,

This loss even the Gods could feel.

So they brought Baldur back,

Put her out of her misery.

 

It’s an offering dropped from heaven,

Said the Greek and Roman.

For lovers to embrace,

And enemies to find peace.

Resilient like a warrior,

It feeds and heals,

Even when trees shed all their leaves.

 

Elks, chipmunks, robins,

Porcupines and bluebirds,

It brings all together,

And not once cleaves.

In life as in the legend,

Mending, thawing, binding,

Rounding very crease.

 

Cover-ups

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Cover it up with ice-cream,

Cover it up with smiles,

Go out for shopping,

You’ll start feeling fine.

Cover up the gloom,

And look for answers out,

All they’d ever ask you

Is what you’re up to now.

Cover up the dreams and

Hustle all day long,

But when you are lonely,

The spider would start to crawl.

He’ll pull up the veil and

Bring back your frown,

So know that quick fixes

Are not wise or sound.

All they’d ever tell you

Is what the world’s about,

But who you are matters

When all comes crashing down.

Safe to fit in

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We were busy sitting straight

Colouring inside lines

Running relays

Getting caught up in grades

Letting sketchbooks fade

And losing ourselves thus

Never standing out

Never making a fuss.

 

Oh, why didn’t we want our quirks to be seen?

We never really liked filling trees with green!

Plans

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I have a map.

It’s vibrant,

Dotted and streaked

With bold, adventurous plans.

I have a boat.

It glides and nods,

Cuts through waves,

But takes me on a new path,

An unknown trail.

I have a compass.

It flits and flirts with the wind,

Wayward and difficult,

Points to directions I haven’t framed.

And there is no lighthouse to lead the way.

I have an anchor.

It’s been on the mast since I set sail.

I hop onto it to brave the weather, uncertain.

My map is a criss-cross of contrasting inks,

I’m questioning,

Re-thinking,

Scared.

But in for the ride,

However it fares.

I am navigating through life.

Photo by Oliver Cole via unsplash.com