Hurricane Thoughts

Here is my body
I’m made of bones and missing jigsaw pieces
I can draw you disassociation
It’s a cube where none of the lines intersect
My doctors have not worked this one out yet
But each morning I thread ribbon through
My limbs and reattach them to my torso
In the hope that one day
Soon
They will attach themselves
I just want to feel whole

Depression is the pet I never wanted to take home
It’s the feeling of being in the sea
Surrounded by so much natural beauty
That becomes difficult to look at when
You keep drowning

Anxiety is being trapped within a cage having
Thoughts hurled around you at hurricane speed
There is no chance to make
Sense of this mess but I am relearning all
The rhythms of my heartbeats
And how my stomach can manage to tie
knots in an instant I understand that the
Pressure around my ribcage can become stronger
And there’s that familiar heart attack pain
but this is only momentary
So here is my body telling me to slow down
Breathe and I am learning to listen

As women, we hold centuries of sorrow in our hands.

I am sorry that I take up too much time;

I am sorry for using all this space;

I am sorry, I am sorry.

As women, we hold centuries of sorrow in our hands.

I am sorry that I take up too much time;

I am sorry for using all this space;

I am sorry, I am sorry.

Youth work

I am the fan club, cheer squad, soccer game attendee
Sit in on the musicals, award ceremonies and middle school teacher meetings
Know organisations that offer food vouchers, free furniture and payment for school camps
My car is a travelling office, my handbag a desk and I am a community notice board
I can tell you soccer club registration fees, average price for furniture deliveries and how long a swimming lesson should last before the boredom sets in
I am the supervision, temporary parent and provider of dinner
Connect funding with programs, people with organisations and have a regular lunch date with my steering wheel
Juggle two mobiles, five sets of keys and a large pile of paperwork
Accumulate pens from places I have not yet visited, write reminders on sticky notes and still manage to forget the snacks
Practice self-care, grace and the art of withholding frustration at irritating workers who achieve the bare minimum
I network, advertise programs and highlight successes
and wow, I am so grateful to be called your youth worker

Be kind to your body
Nurturing to your mind
Wholesome to your spirit
Open to your perception of God

May you find your temple
Arrive at a place of awakening
Continue on your path of learning
Welcome the offerings before you

Shed that which no longer serves
Make space for new layers
Absorb healing from the earth
Replenish resources from within

I wish this for myself and for you
Wherever you find yourself tonight
Let us sit at this table together
Place grace and love in the centre

Be gentle. Be pure.
Return home to yourself again.

Maybe I feel too much
But on this day of good food
People are being tear gassed
Driven off their land
Forced in to slavery
In this country
We have so much wealth
Within each of us
So much learning to dive in to

So maybe I feel too much
Or just enough to say
Hey
What if we try to put goodness back
What about continuing the cycle of kind
We have all spent too many years
Peddling backwards through darkened spaces
Our calf muscles are super strong
I propose we hire a world wide tandem bike
May you assist or ride for as long as needed

Because there is no debt
Like the sum of people suffering
Aside from the globe being warmed
From our inflated egos
Humans harming other humans
This is not a sustainable practice
Let us be soft with each other
Powerful with our voices
Insight change with our actions

Absorb these spiced words
Share the stories of my people
Wind back to my childhood
Feel the warmth of the earth

The past
This is the string that holds me together
But can lead me to unravel
Fray and
Burn

I don’t know which is worse

Why do people, myself included, romanticise train stations? They are places of movement, of coming and going. The trains are always leaving and loyally returning with haste.
Why then, with such a high rate of loneliness do we write about the girl, fingers drumming along to incoherent imagined music.
The boy with some stubble, face buried in a book.

These places are realistic; there is always a better journey to embark on, a more lively, vibrant destination.

Right now, this is life. There’s no practice round, no time to mentally prepare, this is it.
We are alive and breathing and today is just today. I want to fill my hours with emotion and journals so I can remember the lessons I learnt.
I want to breathe in the smells of the earth and rhythm of love. I think we should love everybody we meet and that includes your own. Be kind to your mind and heart. Learn the texture of rain on your face and liken it to soft hands. Feel the sun on your back as your brain recharges.
I like the effect water has on sand, together, they change and blend as one. I want to be one with nature.

Have you ever wondered
How the clouds are
Perfectly blended against
The sky

The whitest of whites
And bluest of blues
Are painted seamlessly
Together

I think people are just
The same; they blend
Paint, mould themselves
And they continue, moving

Today I sat on a mountainside
Looked to the valley and
Wondered how do the clouds
Keep themselves upright
When some people cannot
Bear the thought of rising

I watched the birds duck
Weave, dive, swoop and
Some lives feel like an
Endless game of dead-ends
And stop signs

I think that some people
Are made of sunshine
They are there to brighten
Even the darkest edges
Of your being

And I know you were built
To survive