Eyes, darting, here and there.

Fingers, dancing, enlacing, releasing.

Feet, shifting, this way that way.

The wait isn’t easy.


Heart racing, mouth dry.

Cold sweat breaking, trickling, pouring.

Body heated up.

Tummy rumbling, butterflies fluttering, floating.


A sigh of relief, the wait is over now.

Paralysing fear’s dark cobwebs now recede, fading away.

It’s a new day, new possibilities.

Courage warms and strengthens the heart.

Hope springs forth giving it wings.



No, I can’t go yet!

I have so many books to write.

So many wrongs I need to right.

So many cars to ride into the tide of life.


No! I cannot leave yet.

There are songs that I must sing.

Be it is only to the moon.

In the darkest of nights!



River flowing.

What a sight.

Water meandering.

What a sound.

Trees, aligning the water bank.




Nature, what a delightful sight.

Reclining, refreshing.

The stream flows.


Feet and toes are malaxing.

Massaging, hydrating.

Fingers and palms are caressing.

Eyes are closing, muscles loosening in bliss relaxing.








Stretching taut, numb muscles.

Facial muscles.

Emotional muscles.

Heart muscles.


Finally freeing me to be me.

Letting go, unchaining me.

Simply me.

Unapologetically me.


Here I am.

In my unashamed, unadulterated splendour.

With my weaknesses, strengths, uniqueness.

In my quirkiness, and daffiness.


Hello dear me, how are you today?




She’s down sometimes.

She’s self-conscious.

Always wondering if everyone is staring at her.


She sucks in her tummy.

Trying to camouflage the lovely mound that is her lower belly.

Passing by the opaque windows of a building, she gazes at herself.


Did I add weight?

Do I look good in these clothes?

She sighs, sucks in her tummy.


If only she had a flat belly.

The curves are elegant but the tummy!

If only she had a slim face.

The eyes are lovely but the cheeks!


She stares at her face again and sighs.

There’s always a little something that nags at her.

It stands between her and the door.

The entrance to the room called happiness.


This little something, crushing her self-esteem.

It’s a grain of sand hurting her.

It irritates, the delicate flesh of her oyster heart.

Little does she know a pearl is developing within her.




Push, pull, shove.

Push, pull, shove.

On and on it goes.

Each one is trying to gain ground.

Gaining, loosing.

Grasping, grappling.

Holding on, though we’re losing ground.


Then it happens.

We are at the edge of the cliff.

None wants to give way, yet one has to, or both lose.

We are at our wit’s end.

Wholly drained for we’ve given our all.

Then why are we here?

Why, oh why do we find ourselves on the brink of destruction?

Our deepest desire was to build something beautiful.


Then it dawns on us; we haven’t lost it all yet.

The end of this season is a promise.

The birth of a new season, a new beginning.

It is a matter of viewpoint.

We haven’t lost it all, at the edge of this cliff.

If one gives way, then we are saved.

As one, as a team, we can both slowly move towards each other and turn back to firm ground.

We would then contemplate the beautiful scenery.

Offered by this vantage point at the edge of the cliff.


Realising this, we put down our armour, our volition.

The stubborn, prideful, “own sweet way.”

We lay down our arms.

We put on concession, this beautiful robe.

Oh, how lovely when we change perspective.

We now comprehend that it was a raw gem.

An uncut diamond.

We had to reach the edge of the cliff to see how lovely life was.

Yes, a meaningful existence appears when we look through a prism.

The prism of laying down our will.

Oh, love, you do not seek your own, but you see the good in each one of us.



Lovely, pretty, comely.

I am.

Am I, do you think?

Lovely, lovable, loving.

I am.

Am I, do you think?


Look, do you see me?

I tremble, I mumble, I stumble.

I look forward.

I look down.

I seem coy.

Don’t I?


I am cringing.


I am wincing.


I am flinching.


I am quailing.


Do notice me.

Do like me.

I need it.

One shot, please.

To get me through the day.

The spring in my step is fading fast.



No longer at ease.


Ill at ease.



Ease away.

Ease up.










The weight of words.

The spoken, unsaid, unspoken words.

That swell up and take up space.

Shouting shrilly until their deafening din is too much to bear.



I waited for your phone call.

You never called.

I waited for your letter.

You never sent it.

I waited for your text message.

You never texted me.

I waited for your email.

You never sent it.


I waited for your presence.

Your listening ear.

Your loving presence.

Your kind smile.

Your warm embrace.

Your friendship.

Your understanding nod.

Your companionship.


You, oh you dearest friend.

Were you my friend?

Was it a figment of my imagination?

My divagating, thirsty, love-starved heart.

Was I in this all by myself?

Was it only me, all this time?

I wonder.



There it was again, lurking beneath the surface.

Waiting for the opportune moment to pounce on me.

I had become complacent in the make-believe zone of “I can handle it, no big deal.”

It had been a mirage, and I was paying dearly for it.


My odious opponent, depression is the name, pounced on me and thumped me senseless.

I received an uppercut of “I am ugly” right between my eyes.

A massive straight punch of “I am useless” threw the breath out of me as it landed square on my belly.

The coup de grace fell on my jugular.

I gagged and choked as “no one loves you” suffocated me with an iron grip.