The longing for belonging
To the place I visited and where my heart stayed.
I miss the hot humid evenings of
walking and no fear and
laughter over everything.
You taught me to accept acceptance and to
It’s a rare thing to find
people who are of the same mind and
who set you on fire more
than you were before they were in your life.
you have to leave.
They leave, you leave
and as you realize this
your soul starts to grieve.
Your heart weaves
fantasies and melodies and
half-true stories of what might have been…
because let’s face it.
It’s easier to dream than to
live in the moment.
It’s painfully easy to lose your focus.
It’s hard to remember that
life is formed of
the small sidewalk cracks that take you back to
when you were two or
the familiar people who become so routine that it seems as though they are no longer needed.
Patterns repeated over and over lose
the colour that you used to see.
Don’t let them.
Let the repetition be
a part of the dance-
when it seems to cage you in and the stage you’re in gives no room to breathe
allow your soul to break free.
Life was not made to stay the same,
from day to day,
from place to place.
But we forget to be brave.
You, you are allowed to make waves
right where you are.
Don’t aim for the stars, they’ll only burn you, and
words said in secret will stay and hurt you.
Don’t let them.
Breathe deep and release
the memories and you will see
this place can be made into paradise.
To the one choosing to worship in the dark.
i thought that
twilight came slowly, softly
small twinkling lights appearing,
silhouette standing, unfazed
and i supposed that, with twisted irony,
the only thing i had failed to notice is that
the twilight had crept up
before my sight had let it sink into my mind that
the light had dimmed and the day had
help me find my bearings; You’re
tearing me in different directions, one
that craves the brightness of day and one that seeks solace in the stars.
at Your discretion our paths are made so who
to tell You that this light shouldn’t fade?
as i dread this coming darkness
teach me to rejoice in new seasons of starlight.
To menial things.
Blended and yet
Life givers and
Do not despise the menial things.
To cherished places and new seasons.
the horizon and I realize
it’s time to move away.
Sunsets fade and so do memories
revisiting this place means remembering
not only the things that I wish I could forget but also
letting myself see the good.
I’m not sure which hurts worse
never seeing beauty or never forgetting it
never letting it wash over your soul and ease your tired mind or
lying awake every night
wish that you could go back.
They say that everything comes in time but the longer that you watch a sunset
the more its colours subtly blend and bend and
mend themselves from
one seamless skyline to another.
Soon you can’t tell them apart from each other.
It’s gone and we say
that this explosion of colour
has become less.
Less entrancing, more mess. Something that takes more steps
to find the allure and the
peace and the
Why do we expect big experiences to be the most gratifying?
as this sunset fades
from beauty and fire to the end of the day
in deep hues of blue and small specks of light
it's bittersweet for old days to dim
but this time of night
has its own glory.
To the one who needs rest.
late at night
to listen to the sound of quiet. Of silence.
Let your shoulders fall and relax your jaw.
Don’t be afraid if today you see nothing at all that makes you proud to say “I did that, I achieved that, I fought for that because I believe that.”
Relish in that your heart is still beating, lungs expand and
you’re still breathing,
mind rest, worries fleeing
forget them all and
To the one who regrets.
Yes, there are times when you could have tried
or pulled the line
of a different thread
but these things do not define you.
Set all these worries behind you.
To the one unsure of where to call home.
Home is running barefoot through a forest path, yelling all the way in case there are bears.
There never are, but we enjoy the rush.
Home is calling friends at unnatural times because time zones don’t care who’s missing who.
Home is my grandma’s perfume seeping through the scarves she’s left behind, heartache to feel her touch like I feel the fabric I’m fingering and oh God, why is everyone so far away?
Home is yelps and screams because someone just lost a nerf war and SOMEONE is going to pay for it.
Home is the stinging wind on my skin as I half-stumble down a loch’s shore, processing, listening, unsure.
Home is salt in my mouth and my ears and chills all up my body and smiles on my face because yes,
we jumped in again and no,
we weren’t supposed to.
Home is watching the ground rise up towards you as the plane falls.
Home is my mother’s soft voice telling me to calm down,
late night chats with my dad
disorganized card games with my brothers and cries of “you cheated AGAIN”.
Home is people together, lifting their voices, one purpose, Abba we worship you.
Home is a journey.
To the one who feels distracted.
listening to you, abba
is like staring at the stars.
you can only see them shine bright
when you walk away from the other, closer lights
the ones that cloud your view and dim your sight.
nothing changes overnight.
stars will set and sun will rise and i may not have rested my eyes but
slowly, over time, i have learned.
i am learning.