I turned 22 a week ago now. In the lead up to my birthday and for some time after, I always find myself reflecting on the year that’s passed and what I’ve learned and how I’ve changed. Initially when someone asks me ‘do you feel any different?’, the answer is most often ‘no’. Because I…
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Recently, I feel that I have started to learn the importance of other people. I have found myself re-evaluating my stance on friendships and relationships. Not necessarily with specific people, but just in general. For a while, I was always coming back to the thought that I was better off on my own. I refused…
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I think it’s important to realise that life only happens one day at a time, and I can’t snap my fingers and magically end up ‘where I want to be’ in the blink of an eye. I feel it’s important to acknowledge that everyone moves at their own pace, and I am exactly where I’m meant to be at this moment in time.
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We weave connections in human webs –
An invisible tangle of paths entwined,
As our fingers leave trails of human threads
Woven into a memoir of time.
There is a tree I used to climb
With sweeping walls of green,
Enclosing me in another world
That only I could see.
Nooks and crannies in the branches
Became shelves to hold my dreams.
Each bough, a room all of its own
In a home (as I had deemed).
The ripest peach, soft and sweet
Juice down your chin in a sticky streak-
The taste of summer, wonderful and warm.
But in a desperate, hungry gulp for more
The stone sends cracks through your teeth –
And tumbles down your throat’s hollow street.
In youth you live a pond life,
Submerged up to your ankles,
Orange fish nibbling at your toes,
Pebbles clear as day just a few inches below
The surface. You pick one up –
A perfectly round pebble.
You smile, and that’s enough.
I have days lined up in bottles,
Hours pouring out the tap.
I fill glass after glass with minutes
And drink more time than can elapse.
I have a strong desire to document my life. Not necessarily my everyday experiences and errands or even special events, but just things that I see. Some people document other people, some their travels and adventures, but I like to document simplicities and complexities in the natural world around me. Sometimes photos act as bookmarks…
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Maybe tomorrow I will slip back into an old skin
To be momentarily reacquainted with
A memory, for the fun of remembering.
I will cloak myself in a costume of my past self,
Playing dress up in a skin and a mind once mine,
And the wrong-er it feels makes my new self feel right-er.
I will close my eyes and ignore the ill-fitting
Tight squeeze, stretched straps, and snapped seams.
For in a dance of vivid recall I remember: this,
This is what it once felt like to be me.
