The Writing Journey

Human

I am not made of glass

nor candle sticks

my back is no garden wall of flowers

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Nuggets of Inspiration

What Does it Mean to Endure?

Some days are a crushing weight

on my shoulders

But I am too busy to breathe

too busy to feel sorry

the nights are the hardest

when cluttered thoughts refuse to sleep

But I endure

 

 

 

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Angels

Sometimes I feel like angels

are very close, watching me.

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Photo Challenge: Against All Odds

Last year this time

I had no idea you would be mine.

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The Real Me

Sometimes, while Niya naps and the minutes drift by I find my mind reflecting on the past. I retrace my steps, wonder at the small things that do not matter, like the job I quit a while back, the books I should have written… At times like this when the world is quiet and all I hear is the whir of the fan and Niya breathing, I remind myself of the real me, how I am right where I’m supposed to be.

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In Stillness of the Night

The lights are out

for the first time since my return to Jamaica.

Suddenly I can hear the insects

singing in the night. The stillness

is frightening

and yet I can feel

my heart no longer a distant drum.

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They Say I Have Spoilt You

You have cried for too long

i swoop in, my arms under you

put you against the pillow

of my breasts, thinking “i am a bad mother”

you do not care as you stare

suckle, breathe, sleep.

They say i have spoilt you

You are too used to my arms,

the scent of rose-water breast milk,

the sound of me breathing too close

beside you. They say i am suffering from “new mother syndrome”

you do not care as you stare

snuggle, breathe, sleep.