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?

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Life

Only Human

I’m not really okay, today.

And yesterday—

I wasn’t really okay then, either.

Yesterday, there were tears.

Feelings.

And yesterday I couldn’t see the sky, anymore.

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Maybe it’s hormones.

Or the rain.

Or maybe it’s just my broken bits screeching

Reminding me

That I am only human.

Or something like it, anyway.

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So.

For a day. Or two. Or three

I’ll probably still be this.

A little bit lost.

A little bit bamboozled.

A little bit wondering…

‘When will this tenderness seep back into my bones?’

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Yesterday I searched for a place to hide.

A place to feel safe.

But today, I’m just here

Feeling the ache and letting it…be.

Because what else is there to do?

This is life, after all.

And life is exactly what I’ve come here to do.

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Inspiration

We’ve Got This

It’s just come to me.

Like a roar straight from the heart of the lion.

We’ve got this.

We do.

We’ve got it.

See?

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I’m not going to lie.

Sometimes, I think:

‘Ah, crikey. I haven’t really got this. Have I?’

Nope.

Nopey. Nopey. Nope.

I-just-don’t.

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That’s when I remember.

Life is good, even when it’s bad.

Isn’t it?

Because bad wakes the lion in us.

Bad starts the fight.

For love. For dreams. For life.

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That’s why I reckon it’s okay that I say it:

We’ve got this.

We do.

And, guys. For the times we don’t got this…

We’ve still got this.

Because we’ve got each other.

We’ve always, always got each other.

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(If you think that maybe you really don’t got this…you are not alone. Please. Reach out for help. Reach for a friend. A neighbour. A professional. Reach anywhere. Someone will be there to take your hand, I promise, they will. So. Time to get googling for your local helpline. Because, actually…you really do got this. You do. And with a bit of help…you will remember how to roar again. )

xx Brooke

 

Poetry

The Rose

The rose began to wither, in
her heart of woven gold,
the ocean melted in her eyes
for stories never told.

The window shone the morning bright,
not once did she look there,
the darkness had become her and
the rose, at last, was bare.

The bluebirds flew about the day,
the air cut like a knife,
and all the while a single rose
lay weeping bloody life.

For no one knew the rose had died
and left a heart of black,
except the girl with ocean eyes;
a train run off the track.

The gardens coloured in the world
so full of joyous spring,
and daisies spread along the path
as death came wandering.

The children danced in rosie rings
while men laughed at the sky,
yet, there she lay upon the bed,
a light about to die.

And as the days became the years
her rose grew back once more,
a rose of black and white, this time;
a life unlike before.

-Brooke Cutler, 2018

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The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 30. Life

Guys.

What happens on the days that darling says NO.

Today is not your day for darling things.

No way.

No how.

WELL!

Let me tell you what happens on those days.

You get out your headphones and you go straight to the nearest musical explosion of wonderful.

That’s what you do.

THAT is what you do.

So!

In honour of this perfectly cruddy day…

We close our eyes. And we listen to this.

Because surely nothing could be more darling.

Except maybe a cup of tea.

Bottoms up. xx

person pouring tea on a cup

The darling blog of May