There always seems to be something I want, just over there.

There always seems to be something I crave beyond my reach.

I strive, push, grasp, and stretch.

Yet, I come back empty.

I can neither touch nor hold it.

I will attain my goal next time.

I should try again, one more time!

I know I will make it.

One try is all I need.

Here we go again.

I promise this time; I will succeed.




Walk this road with you; I will.

Take this route in the dark of night; I will.

Walk this road when the storm is raging; I will.

Take this path when it is all chaos and confusion; I will.

Walk this road when it takes us all we have to put one foot before the other; I will.


When it is dark, I will persevere because it is on the journey that I discover who I am,  who you are, and who we are.

It is during the storm that we huddle and cuddle together and draw strength from each other.

It is in the chaos and confusion that I learn to focus on the essential things.

When we are overwhelmed by circumstances, we zero in and lock onto what is important to us.

We hold on to each other and move forward inch by inch. We take time to acknowledge and celebrate our little victories.  




The beauty is in the waiting.

The magic is in the process.

The tentative smile.

The stolen glances.

The hesitant voice.

The silent conversations.

The eyes that speak volumes.

The hearts that dance in unison.




Gentle caressing eyes.

She feels the warm, heady breath upon her nape.

Firm, confident embrace encompasses her.

She’s falling into warmth.

Her heartbeat accelerates.

She can barely breathe.

How could one be so lovely to behold?

How could it be so heavenly to be held?




I thought you would wait for me.

You are no longer here.

The plans and promises made all lie here empty, broken.

If only I could turn back time.

I would let you see all these treasures I had locked deep inside my heart.




Bright lights.

Shiny tinsel.

Bells tinkle.

Stars twinkle.


Hustling and bustling.

You seek the perfect gift.

What a lovely season.

It is Christmas again.


Crackling fire.

Roasted chestnuts.

Tantalizing butter biscuits.

So many goodies that make your mouth water.


Yet, there are so many lonely souls.

They drift by in mutual silence.

They don’t want to spoil the ambiance.

They don’t want to disrupt the artificial joyfulness.


They smile to make believe that they are part of the happy populace.

Others cannot hide.

They are invisible in plain sight.

They struggle to keep their broken frame warm and dignified.


A few generous souls work tirelessly.

They try to bring a bit of comfort to these forgotten souls.

They offer a hot drink and warm clothing.

The donations they receive from kindred spirits enable them to reach out to the needy.


I do wonder what I am doing during this festive season.

Will I allow the bright lights and shiny tinsel to blind me?

Or, will I let the true spirit of Christmas illuminate my heart?

The essence of this season isn’t only receiving, but most of all, giving.


Will I give warmth and good cheer to those around me?

Will I open my heart and hand to the needy souls I tend to overlook?

Will I allow me to see and esteem invisible lonely souls around me?

Will I also take time to be kind to me too?




The coverings were for warmth.

The wrappings were for protection.

The coverings were for isolation.

The wrappings were for insulation.


You put on a mantle that protects you from the biting cold.

You wrap yourself into a tight ball in a bid to shield yourself from the cutting indifference.

You isolate yourself from the source of perceived pain.

You go inwards to insulate yourself from the demeaning glance.


I am traversing a desert.

You are lonely in a crowd.

I am battling the raging storm.

You feel isolated while in good company.


Turn the lights on and see me.

Please turn off your prejudice and see us.





Regal, confident.

A statement.

A declaration.



You only come this far.

The boundary is clear.

Trespassers beware!



Grey zones disappear.

White lies evaporate.

Psychological and emotional blackmail exposed.



You resist me now, and you loathe me,  I know.

You were used to barging into my life as you pleased.

That time is over now; it’s a new dawn.



My no is a regal gown that clothes me.

What I reject reveals what I accept.

Without you, dear two-letter word, I am void and without form.



My newly made friend.

Our first encounter was clumsy and nerve-racking.

Now I gladly embrace you.



My lovely one, come away with me, and let’s explore this wild forest of my life.

My dear two-letter friend let us create margins and limits.

May our new boundaries enclose our beautiful secret garden called “the real me.”




She looked at him with cold, hard eyes.

She was seething mad.

She wanted to obliterate him from the face of the earth.

She did not.

She had to exercise self-control.

She knew that if she allowed her impulses to lord over her, she would regret it in future.

She was capable of hurting the child in her bout of anger.

She ransacked her brain in search of another way to discipline the child.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, letting go of her pent up anger and stress.

This time around, she would not make the child pay for her stressful day. 




Deeply hurt.

Can’t you see?

I am in pain.

Oh! It is excruciating.


Why stareth thou at my infirmity?

You gauge me.

You dress me down.

Your looks suggest less of a human thou thinkest I am.


Have you ever thought about me as a person?

Have you ever imagined what I have been through to come thus far?

Have you ever experienced the pain I have had to bear? 

Have you ever thought of the battles I have had to fight?


My body aches.

My mind hurts.

My emotions roil.

My heart bleeds.


You look at me, disgusted.

You glance at me, displeased.

Your scathing indifference slaps me.

Your scorning looks burn me.


Do you realize the load you heap upon me?

How would you feel after walking a mile in my shoes? I wonder! 




She is happy, and it is a shy and tentative kind of gladness.

She is awakening to herself today.

She met “herself” today.

She has known “her” forever.

Yet, it was different today.

She embraced herself.

She graciously accepted and loved herself.

It had finally dawned on her that it was no use trying to be someone else.

She was tired of the deep searing pain and discord that reigned within her.

She sighed, content, and at peace with herself.

She was finally whole.

It was a strange kind of completeness.

It was hard to describe.

It was a sense of homecoming.

Yes! That was it.

She had finally come home to “herself” and her purpose; that was beyond precious. 




My heart swells.

My heart bursts.

My heart overflows.

My heart sings.


It is a new day.

New opportunities.

New beginnings.

New possibilities.


Today is a new canvas that I can draw on.

I am the master who holds the paintbrush.

I dip the brush at will on the colour pallet before me.

I am not alone.


The great artist is always by my side;

Encouraging, protecting, uplifting me.

He strengthens my feeble hands.

My heart and mind are invigorated and rejuvenated for this journey called life.




When was the last time I put myself out?

When was the last time I did my task sincerely from my heart?

When was the last time I laid bare my soul?

When was the last time I consciously gave myself away with no care?

When was the last time I pushed beyond my limits?

When was the last time I lived truly without a gimmick?

When was it, dear me?

I need to know that I may live again, not exist.



“Shut up and listen! Stop interrupting me!” She shouted at the child.

She was livid. Her nostrils flared and deflated like a skirt on a windy day.

Her bloodshot eyes painted a fiery tapestry.

Her eyes shot flaming darts at her object of scorn.

The young child bent over his toys.

He pretended to be oblivious of the rantings and ravings of his mother.

He was used to it.

He continued to build his Lego house; he wanted to see how long it would last this time around.

He silently started the countdown, one, two, three, four.

At the count of three, she stopped shouting, looked at him, and apologized before leaving the room.







Am I still hoping?


I almost had it.

I once had it.

I might have it.

Will I have it?


Thus goes the flow of life.

My life.

My existence seems wasted.

My soul is withering in this barren desert, devoid of hope.


I am now just a dried out discarded husk.

I am too old for this profession.

I don’t have enough work experience for that job offer.

I have too many diplomas for this job.


Where, oh, where is my place?

Where is my niche, my sweet spot?

Where is my slot?

Where can I cast my anchor?


How long will I drift in this barren, cold, cruel, tundra, the wilderness of joblessness?

Please do tell me when this torture ends!




I am trapped, get me out!

I am stuck, pull me out!

I am drowning, hold me tight!

I am falling, don’t let go of my hand!

Help! Oh, help me!

Throw me a lifeline.

Be my buoy, and save this perishing soul.




I feel so ugly now.

I feel so-so.

I don’t even know how to name this yucky feeling.

These emotions suck me into the dark abyss of depression.

I am wrong.

I was wronged.

I have wronged.




I open my mouth to share the pearls of wisdom I think I possess.

Once these sly, mischievous words have flown out of my mouth,

I realize the extent of my folly.

I don’t know it all.

I don’t have all the answers.

So who am I to stand as judge and sage?




The beauty of the horizon transfixes my eyes.

I am now blind to what is right before me.

The distant mirage beckons me.

I miss out on the beautiful reality of my mundane “here now.”




Your words stung.

They planted their sharp darts deep in the tender folds of my heart.

It wasn’t your intention.

Yet the result remains the same.

My heart is sore and swollen tender.

The wound is hard to erase.

So, please kindly weight your words.

Do not dish them out carelessly.

For many a time, you have knocked me down with your utterances.

You have left me cringing and groaning on the hard floor of “insensitive statements.”