Poetry

Satisfied

I looked into the sky

and I said,

‘Sky.

It’s me.’

And then I realised

I had nothing more to say.

And that

actually

I was satisfied.

Satisfied,

and ready to give in

to the aching quiet of it all.

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Twelve Days of Christmas

Human Nature

On the ninth day of Christmas

I felt sadness inside of me

and I cried.

Who am I to keep sadness prisoner

inside these flimsy human walls of mine?

Sadness deserves freedom

just as much as joy does.

On the ninth day of Christmas,

I really was okay.

But even on okay days

sadness sometimes knocks

and asks to be let out.

Who am I to deny it that?

Who am I to resist my human nature?

woman looking at sea while sitting on beach
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

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Inspiration, Life

My Authentic Self

For so many of my adult years, I wanted to know myself.

Growing up, I’d heard there was such thing as a person knowing themselves and, truthfully, I was envious of all those who did.

When I thought of what it meant for a woman to know herself, in my mind I saw strength. I saw opinion. I saw a woman in charge, a statue of clarity in a crumbling world.

I didn’t think I was any of those things.

I still don’t. If I know anything of myself, it’s that I’m just a big kid that loves music and movies and coffee. And laughter, of course, because what would this world be without a good cackle.

Well.

I have the best news to share.

I am no longer seeking to know myself.

I am no longer seeking to be the woman that I always thought I should be by now.

All I truly crave in this big old universe of ours is to be free to be my authentic self.

To live my truth.

To fly above the path I choose, rather than simply walk it (because flying is way more fun, don’t you think?)

I don’t suppose I will ever truly know myself because, in this life, I will be constantly moving and changing to suit all my new moments.

All my new places.

All my new people.

So.

If I can be satisfied with the simple act of loving myself for who I am in any given moment, then that sounds pretty bloody great to me.

Bring on the next time I doubt myself.

Bring on the next time I cry into my tacos about completely ridiculous things.

Because gosh I love that girl.

And I love that she really doesn’t care if she knows herself, or not. xx

I was four, here. I haven’t changed much. 😂❤️

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Poetry

A Way With Words

It’s quite certain

that when a person says to another person:

‘You have a way with words’,

it’s not the words themselves

that made the impact.

It’s the heart they fell out of,

and the way the heart coloured the words

so that they might flow

and ring ever so true

as they tumbled into the big wide world.

The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 24. The Darling Tree

This is the Darling Tree.

nature forest trees park

Isn’t it lovely?

And oh-my-GOODNESS.

I have an idea!

Why don’t we climb it? Together.

Just like we did when we were pipsqueaks.

Just like we did before we painted our serious faces on.

man in gray suit jacket holding yellow banana fruit while making face

Don’t you remember it? That freedom?

Climbing to the top of the world without a care.

Gasping when we lost our footing; cackling on the ground, relieved to be still in one piece.

Surely you remember it.

We were superheroes, you and me. Chasing the bad guy to the highest branch.

We can do that again.

We can. We just have to decide it.

balance business cobblestone conceptual

Climb a tree, you say. But why? Why would we do such a thing?

Who knows. Who cares! Let’s just climb.

Just so we can go home and make rings around the bathtub again.

Just so that we can say those two simple words again: Why not.

Why not.

Don’t they sound like a river running wild? Don’t they sound…

Free?

Yes. They do. So come on! Let’s fling on our capes and fly.

Up to the rooftops of the Darling Tree.

Oh. And don’t worry. I’ll pack supplies.

We could be gone a while. xx

apple book break color

 

 

The darling blog of May