At the Risk of Being Me

On my lowest of days when darkness surrounds my heart and fills it with rage I wonder what I ever saw in you. When my anger results in tears, my frustration born out of arrogance and pride, I also realize how much I owe you though – a new beginning, a lesson, a spark coz for the first time in my life I truly fell in love. And that’s the gift I’ll always remember you for, although I really need to let you go and outgrow those feelings that once made me whole. You don’t want them, that is more than clear, so I have to be strong and let go of my fear of being unlovable, prickly or wrong. Bottom line: I need to move on.

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Missing Pieces

And just as I understood that I have never known who you really are
that loving you has made no sense
that I fell for an image of who I wanted you to be
an idea rather than a person
a simple sentence made me crumble
reminding me that my heart has had its say in this and not my mind
and that it misses you

A Letter to My Future Daughter

Don’t hide behind a hashtag. Be the change you want to see. Support your fellow women. Believe them when they tell you a man you know has molested them. Don’t belittle them in response. Don’t tell them that’s just how it is. Don’t be a silent victim, speak up if you have been harassed. Teach your children to have self-respect and voices of their own. Raise your sons to be feminists and your daughters to be respectful to them in return. Don’t expect women to be better than men. We are not. We are just as flawed. Don’t call yourself goddess or a queen. We are all humans. Just imagine if men called themselves gods and kings. Don’t call other women bitches just because they disagree with you. Don’t sell yourself short for a relationship. Don’t objectify other women or reduce them to their looks. As an artist, create the content that you miss. Write female leads without abuse. Don’t tell their stories in relation to a man but let them be strong for themselves. Don’t support violence. Don’t promote, condone or further it on stage or screen. Don’t be a part of what in real life you oppose. Take responsibility for your actions. Simply practice what you preach.

Sunday Stroll

20°, the sun unusually strong for a day in mid October. A woman leans against a tree, her feet bare on the grass still luscious green. Her bike right next to her, her head buried in a book – she makes me pause. A group of seniors playing cards on a stump. Fallen trees all around them like wooden corpses as the last remnants of a storm so heavy it knocked out an entire city for a day. Unusual for us. I look at them, the splinters, bark and branches. They make me sad. All those golden crowns depleted on the ground, the random specks of red like drops of blood. My park was wounded badly, I can see that now. And every tree that lost its grip with roots too weak to withstand a tempest on muddy ground slows my steps and makes my heart cry out. How vile that force of nature, a tantrum really, sudden, crass. Such a reflection of my year or less self-centered: the world at large. That’s why the woman sitting by the tree caught my attention. Engulfed still by her story, she oozes calm.

Monday

Missing you has lifted my spirits in a strange way today. I don’t know how, nor why but feeling my gut knotting up over longing for your voice, the sight of you, your touch, has helped me breathe through turmoil and frustration. My aching heart too preoccupied to care about things that do not matter, about developments that normally would blow my mind. But you keep me calm, my love, in the eye of any storm. Not having you a whirlwind of emotions that outdoes any other I have faced before. No pain left, just sweetened sorrow and the gratitude for knowing love, not just desire. Love, not plain but simple. Each thought of you a happy one, putting the puzzle of my self together, improving me. No fear left, no doubts there, none.

Un/easy

Why is it that I cannot let you go? That no matter how often I tell my heart I must, it starts beating wild, tearing at my strength? Why do you haunt me in my dreams although I’ve worked so hard to trick my mind into believing I am fine – my love for you unrequited, unknown to you to some degree, at least in quality. Why does my soul have to remind me how deep my desire runs for you, not for your flesh but for your mind? That it is my wish to make you smile and be your rock in dire times. Why does it hurt so bad that your shields are up with me but lowered for the world it often seems? That you look happier these days without me by your side although I still see that spark of sadness in your eyes.Why do I forgive you every scar you keep inflicting on my heart? Every word you fail to say? Every gesture of sincerity you do not see. Why can I admit that your ignoring me is forcing me onto my knees and yet I cannot free myself from you? I could get up and stare your rejection right in the face but not just walk away. Why is that? Why is loving you so easy and yet so full of strain?

Hurt

No one saddens me as much as you
by ignorance, indifference or spreading love on fools
why you are doing this, I do not know
is your self-esteem these days so low
do you need false love to build you up
or is your kindness lost on me, my jealous heart
my scars too deep to understand your pain
to see your nods the beast keep tame

Mis(s)/match/ed

I am indifferent towards you now
or so I tell myself, to soothe my heart and let it heal
so much emptiness instead
no tears, no pain, no feelings left
another lie
my mind preoccupied with you as soon as you are back
remember who I am or who you were
what difference does it make
both lonely now, our souls detached
too independent maybe, stubborn, scarred
longing for another chance
a fresh new start
with someone who might understand
our eagerness to be just who we are and nothing else
not someone’s object, fantasy or dream
just ourselves
complex, elusive, enjoying company

Morning Treats

Across from me on the train sat a large man of Greek descent or so at least my guess, his middle-age bordering the old, his eyes warm and friendly. His arm full of roses, their colour pink and so intense they rivaled the beauty of a sunrise half-hidden in a cloud-cluttered sky. Next to him a woman, her skin mocha smooth, her red-rimed glasses giving her an air of quirky elegance. And as we exchanged a smile over flowers displayed to us in such magnificence, her eyes lit up infecting mine. It was a smile I carried with me on my way to work as I poked along, past worker bees and office ants and parents in a rush tugging at their children’s nerves, always ready to be the first ones at their daily crosswalk, bakery or coffee shop. I shrugged them off, their rage mild today, unfeasible somehow with the sun still lurking behind some sleepy clouds. So when I reached my morning hangout, my mood was balanced, frolic even – minus the fatigue I cannot shake without my first hot chocolate of the day. So I placed my order and my favorite waiter met my smile, then brightened it by knowing exactly what I wanted. “Almond milk, an espresso and a croissant,” he beamed, “Early morning order. Busy day.” I nodded. “And with a start like today, I don’t mind one bit.”