Monday, 28 December 2009

the point of no return

it's not the dazzling lights that ignite your long darknesses
the night sky velvety-black perforated with endless shimmering starlight
it's not the depths of the river i walked by
the sea! the sea! my heart's well desires no freshwater
it's not the mechanical sounds of your clockwork efficiency
indications of humanity: conversation is warm, laughter too loud

it's the roots being extracted
it's the heartbeats left behind
it's knowing it's over

it's the million miles between then and now

a lifetime away
i'm home

Saturday, 5 December 2009


in the end
maybe i just miss us.

all of us. the way things used to be.

simple times. finger-painted dreams.
crying over spilled milk and broken Barbie dolls.
model train sets. remote controlled cars.

the perimeters of our world cut from
paper-heart valentines and the pages of TeenBeat magazine.

maybe i don't like change very much
maybe i just don't like this change
maybe, in the end, i just want what i can't have:


to catch up
with all this growing up
all of us have had to do.

Sunday, 29 November 2009

the road

You may not know this now. You may not want to believe me. But it doesn't matter where you're going. Where you're headed, or in which direction you may drift. It only matters that you are moving. That you are trying. That you still walk on. And that, no matter what, you always will.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

the compass

I lost my way today.

All it took was that splitsecondinstant when you held out the sun, gingerly, in the tips of your fingers, and offered it to me. You fumbled and nearly dropped it, but in that moment, the Light was so blinding I had to blink a few times to clear my eyes. When I could see again, I found that I had strayed a long way from the path, and the sun was back in the sky. But you were gone, and the Darkness was cold and empty.

I'm not afraid of the Dark.
I'll go back.
I'll find you.

Wednesday, 28 October 2009

in the waiting room

alone is not lonely
sometimes the silence is warm and loud
and solitude is sought out, treasured.

clouds don't always mean rain

meet me here oneday?

Tuesday, 20 October 2009

the silence of there

we sometimes think maybe words can fix us

voices. sounds.

the melody of a penny-whistle
the staccato of crickets, filling up the night
the way these eleven tongues fuse lives in silent song
the minaret's echo as it chimes throughout the land.

but the more we listen, the more we're sure:
words can't fix this. fix us.
words can only fill up space
and distract us from the truth.

what we need now is quiet
the silence of there
that contains more in its ounce of emptiness
than this cup, even when it overflows

Saturday, 12 September 2009

cardiopulmonary resuscitation

So he pulled out a brush and washed a streak of colour across the sky. And in a dark corner, deeply buried, a sad heart caught its light and slowly (thump-thump) began to revive. It grew stronger, and turned tentatively back to face the world; hesitant, delicately fragile, but no longer monochromatic.

Saturday, 5 September 2009

Goodbye Neverwhere

From afar, your walls will be smooth and your streets will be calm. No brightness in your lights; no bass left in your beat. Those sharp edges will soften, eroded by time and space. Until one day, I will forget you. Like you so easily let go of me. Until that day when this life is nothing more than a pretty picture I used to hang on my wall.

Wednesday, 2 September 2009


You'll get back up.
You'll hold on.
You'll stand tall.

You'll find it. And you'll overcome. Because when you know, you know.

Thursday, 27 August 2009

the imperfections

In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.
In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.

(But if you're lucky, you'll find a pod that's not a proverb, and a pea that isn't perfect. And then you won't need the pod anymore.)

In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.

Monday, 24 August 2009

light up

you try so hard to find the light. searching the Globe for what you think you need to see. gathering up stray melting candles and flickering fluorescent bulbs. holding onto them as they slowly fuse out and fade away. but enlightenment can't be borrowed. and it can't be caged away. you'll find the switch when you're ready. but maybe the first step is learning how to change a globe.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

on the top step

When you find the Stairway to your heaven
(sometimes you need help finding the First Step)
you just keep climbing higher and higher
so close
(it does get closer with every step)
Make sure you turn at the Top of the Stair
look back
laugh - for the last (first) time?
And then just leap
because you know the cotton candy clouds will catch you

Sunday, 16 August 2009

the song

hold onto the music of that night. and know. even after the strings of our last guitar have been strummed. even when all our records have their edges worn to threads. and when the last of the coloured lightbulbs has lost its filament heart. know that the beat will still echo. know that those words will mean to me what they meant to us then.

Friday, 14 August 2009

in anticipation of load-shedding

I'm making a postcard for my memory:

Starry-eyed, child-like wonder. So naive.
Laughter? Yes, there was always laughter. And walking arm-in-arm with friends-who-became-family, my heels keeping pace with their All Stars (just about).
How we laughed.

The lights won't shine this brightly at home.

Thursday, 13 August 2009

the real world

and the games that were our everything once
i don't play them anymore
they got diarised out by urgent phonecalls plane tickets hospital bills work sleepless nights buses meetings emails insurance rent exams coffee taxes screeching sirens
it's too noisy for games now

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

different shoes, different feet

You said I didn't understand. So I tried to walk a mile in your shoes. But you know I'm not a stilettos-on-marble-tile kind of girl, and the click of your heels miss-matched my beat. So I gave you back your feet... and walked the other way. But maybe, one day, we'll meet again. On a park bench or a city street, both picking gum off the surfaces of our similarly worn-down soles.

Monday, 10 August 2009

the visitor

"What is this place we've come to?" she questioned, wonderingly. "Will I find Friends here?"

"Perhaps," you replied. "They will seek you in the Shadow; sometimes you will see them, and sometimes you will not. But always they will be there, searching."

"And what will I say to them?"

"You will know the words," you promised. So she believed, and put away her Fears.

Friday, 7 August 2009

for the noise in my calm, with gratitude

Oneday you will die. And when you're gone, I'll remember this day, when I wasn't alone and the silence was warmed by your noise. Because the silence from beyond your grave will be too loud, and my heart will shatter before my ear-drums.

Thursday, 6 August 2009


you know that
when i'm with you
the world fades away.
but what you don't know
is that when i'm with you,
even i fade away.
blurring, melting, pixelating
becoming less of what i seem to be
and more of who i am

the dream

I'd rather remember you here
among the fading multicoloured lights
of a smoke-filled, pulse-pounding dream
where all our songs melted into one
and the DJ let us play on repeat
Because now your feet have forgotten
as they barely tap out a beat
Because at the place you are now gone,
vinyl isn't a life en-circled
and people cheer at 'no smoking' signs

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

the victory

at the moment of choosing
i thought you went on alone
without me
but now that i'm strong
i perceive -
it was i who went on
and you were the one standing still

Tuesday, 4 August 2009


In my heaven, the grass is always freshly cut and the air always smells of summer rain. And there aren't any 'Keep off the lawn' signs.
But we do it anyway.

the break

i have no more similes for this
no tears like raindrops,
embraces warm as the sun,
whisperings like the wind,
heartbreaks like the sound of thunder.
now you are gone.
and when the sky cracks
the lightning won't make fulgurites
but the rain will drown the world

Saturday, 1 August 2009

the mask

I had to turn away before you stripped away my last willing layer. Because if I permitted you to witness the raw power you exert over my secret soul, some distant day you'll stop using it to entrance my spirit and you will crush me. And I will let you. So I turn away, and exalt in solitude.

Friday, 31 July 2009

the way-out

Remember the way it felt -- standing still -- with the loud, garish world rushing past you; the ground moving beneath your feet. And remember how it felt to be alone there. Because when you leave the familiar babble will fade, and even your own silence will cease to sound the same.

the ripples

Tread on light feet
Touch with gentle hands
Know that
Everything you are and do
Ripples into something new

the space inbetween

But you were too far away to see the lights dancing on my retina. And when you were close enough, the music stopped.