Dreams.

How I wish I could find you;

to somehow show you,

that I became all the things

that you told me,

I would never be.

—Dreams.

 

On Motherhood.

For you,

I lay down my darkness.

When it calls,

I turn my back;

refuse the siren call of my escape.

Only,

for you.

Because,

in your eyes,

I see the only light that shines kindly on my

empty places.

You,

are my

redemption.

 

 

I walked in shame, until.

I wore a lifetime of shame

before I finally realised,

that the poisoned refrain you sang over me,

was birthed from your own fractured dreams.

—I walked in shame, until.

This is how we heal.

Your story belongs to all of us.

Speak through the pain,

and lay bare the thing that would

strangle you.

Give words to your shame.

It is not yours to carry,

alone.

This is how we heal each other.

—This is how we heal.

What if.

What if,

you fought a war for yourself,

instead of with yourself?

What if,

you used the words you speak to yourself, as a veil of kindness with which to cover your nakedness?

What if,

you ate each meal with quiet gratitude, instead of it being a critical litany of fat grams?

What if,

you allow the next dessert to be a sweet reminder of the good in life, instead of reducing yourself to one word: ‘bad‘?

What if,

you wore that bright red lipstick, that purple shirt, that floral dress; regardless of what the fashion industry says is suitable for someone of your colour, skin tone, size, age, gender?

What if,

you chose yourself every, single day.

What if…