A Blog a Day in May

A Perfect New Day

I’ve fallen into a bramble of life’s loose ends.

A body, a mind, a heart—

weary,

and in a tumble

of the most beautiful ugly day.

Come find me

when my words are a song,

once again.

Come meet me at the rise

of a perfect

new

day.

(Hello, you lot. 🙂 I just wanted to take a moment to break the fourth wall and say: I’ve so adored meeting you all here, every day in May. You are one of my happiest reasons. Thanks for being such a lovely part of this perfect new day. xx Brooke)

girl standing on grass field facing trees
Photo by Emma Bauso on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Life

Life

Today, I feel it all.

Life.

Rushing beneath my skin, burning in my bones.

It’s an ache, I feel.

A beautiful wind that moves through my body and clutches at the spaces all around me.

Life.

It’s an ache I’ve always sought to understand.

An ache I never will understand.

An ache.

A life.

A dream to be everything I am.

A longing to be nothing I am not.

casual cheerful daylight friends
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

 

Twelve Days of Christmas

Twelve Days of Christmas

Christmas has always been a special time of year, for me.

It’s a time that brings people together, a time that turns our worldly differences into love hearts and butterflies (and we all know how much this girl loves love hearts and butterflies.)

So, this year, I’ve decided to celebrate with the people who bring out the love hearts and butterflies in me: YOU GUYS. (Aww. Group hug. ALL the love hearts.)

I’d so dearly love you to share the next twelve days with me.

I have no idea what they’ll bring and, to be honest, that’s really the way I like to live this little life of mine. There’s something so wondrous about waiting for life to reveal itself, wouldn’t you say?

Week by week. Day by day.

Moment by moment.

So. Let’s do this.

Let’s share this life of ours for all the days leading up to that jolly day itself.

Christmas. (Or whatever it is that you celebrate. Love is love is love, am I right? )

My rough plan is: day one will start tomorrow and I’ll carry on bugging you once a day until the 24th of December (Australian time, sorry to those of you overseas.)

Anyway— sigh.

Let’s do this.

It’ll be so super jolly, we won’t have any room left in our sparkly, love filled hearts.

See you all again, soon!

xx Brooke

 

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Life

When You Became the Sun

I promised this virtual space of mine that I’d sprinkle some heart into it, and so grows this poem: planted from a memory, watered with love.

I felt this introduction necessary because I am well aware that grief is an almighty thing, and although this poem is—quite literally— shining with comfort and hope; it also speaks of loss. For those of you whose grief runs deep and new: I give you my blessing to stop reading here.

This poem was inspired by my beautiful Grandmother—a ray of pure sunshine in my life, and in the lives of all those who knew her. She passed away a few years ago, and this story took place on the day of her funeral.

That day, I wanted to believe that she was there with us.

So I believed.

And, every time I see the sun…I still believe.

 

WHEN YOU BECAME THE SUN

 

The day you grew your angel wings,

The sun shone warm and true,

While others saw a shining sun,

I looked, and I saw you.

 

The way the sun fell on my back;

A cape to still the grief,

A ring of gold around the clouds—

it filled me with relief.

 

The tears were wet upon our cheeks,

We thought you’d gone for good,

‘Take heart,’ the sun whispered to me,

‘You’ve all misunderstood.’

 

‘I’ve given her my shine, today,

It’s why she feels so near,

She’s telling you the pain has gone;

She knows that you can hear.’

 

Now every time I see the sun,

I hear your sweet hello,

‘Hello,’ I sing right back to you,

‘I’m glad you didn’t go.’

 

 

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