Ashes

Phoenix heart… needing only a breath to stir the ashes back to fiery life…

The Eclectic Poet

Scooped out

Hollow

Breath gone

Tears

Desert dry

Coals

Heart bursts

Shrivels

Dead ashes

Dies

No more

Will

This phoenix

Rise

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Patina Of My Heart

Reading the piece “Grief” by the beautiful human and talented poet  SouldierGirl, opened an old seam in the fabric of me…

~~~~~

Does my grief equal? Can I speak at all to offer comfort?

Three of my babies were never born

“You’ll have more”

“Better now than when they’re older”

“I would have married you”

Well-intentioned words, with the accuracy of blow darts

My lost angels

I have screamed at the notion that time heals

In the truest sense, it does and it has

I rewove the fibres of my being with those threads missing

Altered by an absence

Fashioning Taj Mahal pockets in my heart

Stitch by careful stitch, day by month by year

I go on

Mended

~ kei
28 August 2015

Triage

It still catches me at least once a day…

This horrific loss, like a severed limb, haunts even my physical being.

As if Life – the fucking bully – has just punched me so hard in the solar plexus, that it’s all I can do to stop from vomiting up my guts.

I wanted to believe in happiness, to be loved, to share my life.
I wanted to believe that the girl who didn’t get asked to Prom could grow up to be somebody’s princess.
I wanted to believe that the bad guys – or girls – get what they deserve, that the good guys win and that faerytales come true.

Even to me, I sound like a plaintive, perfectly ridiculous teenage girl.

I want my soul returned.
I want my heart unbroken.
I want my dreams untarnished.

Meanwhile, the haemorrhage continues.
I feel my heart, so recently fuelled on endorphins,  fire and hormones, slowly decelerate.

Stuttering back to idle, slipping slowly to full stop.
One of the walking wounded.

Fitting, I suppose. The year winds down, dying in a brilliant blaze of fiery colour, giving way to Sister Winter and her funereal coldness. The leaves make their own grave and so too does my heart.
Here lies the wild, the untamed, the untrained. Now left unclaimed and maimed.
I think I’ll just kick some metaphorical leaves over this useless bit of me and leave it’s lonely resting place unmarked.

~ kei
27 September 2013

Poetic Musings

Is it possible to be both healed and broken by love?

I think so
Do these things happen at the same time?
They just might
Perhaps not in the way, you might at first think
Not a bad way
Sometimes a perceived break in your heart is simply
The only way it can open to let the healing inside