So you think your words aren’t worth?

Your worth was given at birth.
It is value you try to prove–if you must.
Trust the journey.
Every day you become more than you were yesterday.
Your life is worth.
Your humanity is worth.
Your smile is worth.
Your tears are worth.
Your pain is worth.
Your joy is worth … is worth the time and the space you inhibit.
Value is added.
What is it you want to give?
How do you want to serve?

Projections

A blacked out IG landing page. The IG image in centre, a spiral of words used in the poem circles around. In red it reads: You are blocked

Fear
Projects condescension and spite

Grief
Projects anger and rage

Shame
Projects self righteousness

Guilt
Projects dehumanisation

The Projector burns holes into the slides
Self righteousness has been in too long

Truth
A new slide
Projected onto the narcissist
Desperate to quelch the flames

Mirror images are waiting
Alone
Mirages of former hope
Waiting
Dreaming
That one day
One day not too late
You turn
To look
Into
The mirror

Projections can be fierce both for the person who (often) unknowingly projects, as their perception of reality and relationships can be challenging to live with. And the projectee as they constantly are given aspects which are not part of their reality or identity. Becoming aware from both sides is important.

Parental Alienation

Artwork

Interacting through art
The only way to be part
Warped realities thwart
Truth in love apart

Until you come into yourself
These are the times that’ll help
To plant your feet in kelp
Entangle your roots back to your self

That be the time you understand
The breadcrumbs leading across all lands

Where always meant to be the way home
Through tears and joy–back to blood and bones

That’ll be the days of brave
When standing tall within yourself is save

Went to see stepchild's graduation exhibition. The only way for dad to interact. PA was visious, aggressive, full of lies and warped realities. Don't know how many times I wished we understood PA earlier.

Don’t Quit

Never quit because someone asks why
Your weird and wonderful hobby
Dancing in the rain
Singing it loud
Hugging a tree
Talk to strange cats
Smell a flower
Buy more fabric
Buy more paint
Even if you don’t know the dress or quilt yet
Even if you cannot yet see the painting

Don’t let others’ ‘Why?’
Stop your joy*





*(Well obviously as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. Just in case you are looking for an excuse here.)

Forgiveness is not my job

Forgive her, him, them
What for?
Healing?
Pish!
Closure?
Posh!
Peace of mind?
Ha!

Let go
Let go of all that is not yours to carry
Shame, hate, pain, anger, violence
Send it back
Send it back

Return to sender
What's mine is mine
What's yours is yours

Don't fret
Ponder
Rumage
Let go
Set yourself free

But forgiveness?
Forgive yourself always!
Forgive them, him, her?
Not your job.
None of your business!
That his, her, their soul work to undertake

None of your business

Set yourself free
By claiming you
Your youness
Your power
Your light
Your strength
Your happiness

Unburden yourself
From carrying the weight of the perpetrator
It's not yours to carry
It's not your path to walk
They wanted you to
To join them in darkness
To join them in pain
To join them in shame
To follow their insanity
Just
Do
Not
Walk this path

Choose
Choose freedom
Choose your own path
And let go
You are not obliged to forgive
Send this back to
Them, her, him

Exhaustion

I am just going to sleep it off
Even my exhaustion is exhausted
Too many things piled up at ones
After sleep
I am going to put my hands in soil
And usher growth
Out of depleted suburb dirt
I nap in the midday sun
Heat setting my face alight
The half open bedroom window turned pedestal
As a starling loudly announces
That he proudly destroyed the airvent cover
And oh what a wonderful nest he has built
In the roofbeams of our insulated attick
I can hear them move in
Little feet trampling like a heard of rhinos overhead
Nothing to be done now
I am not one to destroy a hopeful nest
I open my eyes
Time to stop napping
For now

Man from Another Time

Panting he stood on the platform
Red tongue nervously flicking over bloody burst lips
Gulping for air, for water, for life
His train gone
Taillights blinking out
Like his vanishing star

Things changed too much
People lost caring
Caring about borders, about othering
About rules
Chaos everywhere
He couldn’t cope
Hate burnt his heart, his soul
Muddled his mind
And now
Now his train left and he is stuck
In the land of plenty
With

No.
Way.
Out.

Roots

A digital collage made with vintage papers overlaid with vintage flower drawings. The tones are all yellow and earthy. Writing says: we are woven into stories, stories are woven into us. Which story are you going to chose?

As I said we are all woven into stories
Stories are woven around us
—through us
We are made of stories
GAGATATACATATGGCTAGCAAAGGAGAAGAAC…
It’s easier to say: ‘Once upon a time.’
Than read out loud encoded double helix stories
Of who we are and where we came from
A roadmap to the past

To the ones who brought pain
Your are of my blood
I am of your blood
I carry your story
But I live my own
I am not responsible for your decisions
I am responsible for mine
I won’t carry your guilt, shame and anger
I carry my own light

To the ones who loved unconditionally
Your blood sings in my veins
I stand in your strength
Your light amplifies mine
I carry your compassion
Your magic is my wonder
I feel your love still
Your joy carries me through rough seas
Even though I never knew you
You are part of me
I am part of you

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