Of memories that arise uninvited.

Why do you keep walking

through

my memories,

like one who has earned the right

to be there;

within me.

You are an

uninvited

exquisite

tenderness.

Can’t you hear my heart

whispering,

Go away.

Shadows.

You say that I speak of (my) darkness too much.

With my heart stripped bare before your eyes,

I stand,

my shadows a gift for the

searching ones.

Don’t you know that light that shines too brightly,

blinds?

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.

Talk to me of old love.

We talk of young love

as if it’s the only love that matters.

Those heady days fade.

Eventually.

No, talk to me about old love.

With its gentle patina of well-worn comfort.

Of another, knowing your thoughts,

knowing what makes your heart race with joy,

laying down dreams so you can find yours.

Talk to me of choosing the same one,

over and over,

and over;

even when it’s hard.

And one day to finally have our hands untwined by

death.

– Talk to me of old love.