Coming of age

 

Gathering the years over time

redressing the innocence

becoming less like a child and more like death

inevitable meanderings trap and pull

into well-worn tracks

we become like everyone else

and less like ourselves

 

Wise beyond our years

improvisation is a circulated falsehood

a mythological ideology created from nothing

a belief I nothing creates an emptiness

this illness of life kills the presence of the soul

disjointed thoughts make you forget

remember to forget yourself

 

The coming of age

brings so much and very little

the laughter mocks the tears of frustration

the sobs ridicule the waves of happiness

tender is the touch which pounds the flesh

the physical slap makes things real

remember to make life real.

Taking a moment to grieve

It's been a tough week for me in Sicily. My mother in law has passed away after many years of illness.

My Sicilian family is grieving the loss of their matriarch, Nonna, Zia and mother.

Sending prayers to anyone else who has lost a family member at Christmas or Easter time it is tough to grieve when others are celebrating.

Needless to say I'll be disappearing from social media and blogging for a while out of respect for my family's loss.

Thank you for understanding.

See you soon


Here is a poem I'd like to share with you.

In loving memory of my dearest mother in law💙



Gone


The bride has gone to her groom

after years of suffering and doom


Her last breath left her body tonight

as she struggled through the last moments of life.


May she find peace and light

as the wailing grief of her children

floats upon the veil between us now.


Go sweet lady, mother and child

find those who are waiting for you

beyond this life and the next.


You are gone, but you are here

in our hearts, memories and minds.


Go with peace and light as we

weep, our hearts will be forever

heavier at your loss but it is

something we are destined to bare.


Go to your father and mother, they

have been waiting for so long.

There are so many there waiting for you, more than are here now.


She has gone to the home our restless souls seek, where all destinies end.


This is my prayer for you to the holy Maria della Stella on the days Jesus defeats death may he shine his light and guide Maria Stella to the heavens.

Thrive

I have given birth to monstrosities

to atrocities filled with insurmountable deformities,

who died horrible, merited deaths as they never

deserved to be born.

I have birthed many rapturous angels who went straight to heaven

too beautiful for this world,

too innocent to survive.

I have killed hundreds, no thousands of my babies,

not because I’m a murderer, but because

they needed to be stronger

I have been re-incarnated after every disappointment

I pushed myself beyond the sluggishness of grief

and dusted off the ashes after the inquisitions

burnt me at the stake.

I’m a tired old ageless phoenix.

I thrive despite it all,

I reinvent myself

endless times over, revive my fading spirit

because my soul comes from a tough line,

from those who outlived their conquerors

from those who have lived despite the misery

created happiness from empty nothing

I stand upon the stepping stones

my ancestors have left behind for me

I never lose my way and keep moving

along with my self designated path

I thrive on spiting life.

Still here

Love is still here for you

as I light a candle

in front

of your photo

 

I remember how your grandson and I

smothered you with hugs and kisses

the last time we said goodbye

 

Our love for you remains

here suspended in the air

you are intertwined in these

three words.


Tangled

Sometimes I get tangled up with everyday life.

 

One fine, straight cotton thread becomes entwined

around my family, work, children and economic situation.

 

Once it was easy to thread a needle and get to work as I please

now the loop is twisted and turned upon itself around others

and then back to me.

 

The more I try to pull away from it the tighter it becomes.

 

Like those poor sea lions and marine animals caught up in plastic

fishing lines cutting into their own skin

around mouths, restricting movement until they starve to death

 

Could I cut myself out?

What would be left of me?

The thread is cutting off chunks of flesh

surely there won't be much of myself left

the tangle is too tight to be unthread.


Endeavour

A funny thing about the heart

is that it keeps beating

even though it's broken.

 

Even if the pieces go missing

it still keeps you alive.

 

Unless it has something else wrong with it

the heartbreak won't kill you.

 

Even though you feel dead on the inside

it keeps ticking along.

 

Why? Because that's the way life is supposed to be lived

always shuffling forward.

 

Children are pushing the years onwards impatiently

willing the time to move more quickly,

youth makes us want to run

in a hurry to achieve something.

 

Other moments life make us stop

like smashing into a light pole at high speed.

 

We survive the car crashes life gives us,

 slowly re-habilitating ourselves,

because even though we are forced to stop at times

to catch our breath, we never can stop the moment.

 

It helps us this motion, keeps us putting one foot in front of the other

this gives us a future to look forward to, a past filled with memories,

a way to cope with loss, disappointment and grief.

 

We are humans who survive it all, growing through strength and love.

Passing on our intuition, drive and knowledge onto the universe

who takes us always onwards.


About grief

I know a little bit about grief.

 

It's the moment you realise

you cannot go back on your own steps

you can't make it better

or say I love you again

 see someone's face every day,

hear their laugh, trace the outline of their smile,

hold their hand or give them a hug.


When you learn what it feels like to run out of time.

 


No more silent pauses in conversations

seeing them across the table,

passing the salad bowl at dinner.

 

All of those moments you take for granted

stop in your mind,

they are gathered up in memories

and the grieving begins.

 

I've learnt grief isn't bad,

it's all we have, really,

for our tears are our love

which used to go out

towards those we love.

 

After they are gone it has nowhere to go,

so our unexpressed love

becomes our grief.

 

And as our passion is as undying,

as our mourning.

 

This will never leave

not until our dying days.

 

It may seem ironic

but I hope we never

stop grieving

because it keeps our

dearly departed near us.

 

Life doesn't stop

when someone dies,

it merely shifts

and changes into another

gear and somehow

we live with it.


Affirmations

I don’t care what other people think of me because I’m intelligent, empathetic, sensitive, creative, reflective, and worthy.


I’m willing to take up space, contribute, make something new and create worthy connections in the world.


I’m here to seek knowledge and understanding, listen and see different points of view.


I want to be a kind ear, an encouraging and reassuring voice for others.


I’m growing every day, making mistakes and stumbling along, always moving forward and looking to become a better person.


I can change my mind and opinions because life is about evolving and living this moment at its greatest potential.


Death's garden

 

The idea came to commemorate my dearest ancestors

by planting them a garden.

 

Lavander sprigs for stillborn Estella.

 

Delicate violets from Nonna’s garden.

 

An all-enveloping ivy that covers and embraces

everything for Nonno.

 

Daddy would be an aubergine flower as that's

what he left for us in his garden.

 

Mum will be an exotic caper flower after she is gone.

 

I will plant them on my skin,

they will slowly grow up my arm

and cover my body in death's garden.

 

Added to with every loss

I choose a new plant to sow

for my family and friends

and add to the artwork

with each ghost.


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