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Rest.

Breathe, inhale, exhale.

Unravel, unwind, unfold.

Stretch, skip, run.

I chuckle, chortle, guffaw.

I laugh, dance and twirl.

I swirl like wine in a glass.

I allow the hidden aroma of my life to come forth quietly and softly.

A gentle breeze wafts the scent of my blooming heart through my open soul.

It’s a lot.

Where do I turn?

Where do I go?

How do I begin again?

I am knee-deep.

I can barely waddle my way through this bog.

I have lost my footing, and the quicksand of foreboding is sucking me under.

Violent waves of dread threaten to capsise the fragile boat that is my life.

Yet, a ray of sunshine has broken through in this dreary and gloomy sky.

The warm light of hope warms my frozen soul.

She looked outside.

It was raining.

The raindrops fell steadily, quietly.

It matched her current mood.

She was downcast.

Her heart was forlorn, heavy, grieving.

She didn’t yell or cry out loud.

The storm outside intensified.

She finally allowed the dam within her to break.

The teardrops came, hot and furious, flooding her shattered soul.

 

The sky was a grey-orangey colour.

The smell of wet soil and mowed grass filled the air.

The delicate light green buds peeked curiously around them.

The once bare branches showed off their new spring leaves.

The morning breeze leisurely caressed the foliage.

The colourful birds hopped and flew around as they chirped a joyful tune.

The sun struggled to point its golden nose as thick, languid clouds spread across the morning sky.

She stood still, savouring the silence.

Her eyes greedily drank in her surroundings.

The sights and sounds that sprang forth danced and lingered around her, searing her mind.

She breathed profoundly.

She inhaled the cloying, clogging air that writhed and swirled around her.

She felt lost and dissipated.

She felt grounded, rooted.

She felt the thrill and shrill sound of her fluttering, shattering heart.

She willed her heart to be still, cool and calm.

She had come back to the source.

Yes! She had finally yielded.

She had given in to the irresistible pull of the call that emanated from deep within the recesses of her soul.

A la source, yes, that was it, back to the source, back to the essence of who she was.

She sighed and allowed her whole being to dive and plunge into the moment.

She lifted her countenance.

A smile of pure rapture lightened up her once-taut and worn-out features.

She finally found her way back to herself, à la source.

(à la source French for back to the source)

The words gushed out.

The violence of their exit shook her.

The pent-up resentment was molten lava.

It was simmering beneath the thin veneer of her well-orchestrated life.

She froze, scared that she had destroyed everything she cared for in her outburst.

As the dust settled, what she saw surprised her.

Her broken soul resurrected like a phoenix from the ashes.

I am scared.

I stand on the edge of the precipice and look down at the foaming, frothing sea.

I want to jump and spread out my wings and soar.

Yet, I am terrified.

What if I crash and burn?

What if I fall on the jutting, jagged rocks that lie below?

What if I stay where I am and wilt and wither?

What if I become a petrified statue of ‘I wish I should have’?

Pain.

I am in such deep agony.

My eyes are dry, dehydrated, and cracking.

The scorching heat of grief has rained down its fiery darts upon them.

I sigh and pull my lips into the semblance of a smile.

All I seem to manage now is a trembling rictus.

My heart has been rent to pieces.

The indifferent waves of grief crush, beat, and batter the fragile shores of my soul, tossing me to and fro.

It came from the bowels of her soul.

It emanated from the recess of her being.

It welled, swelled, and washed over her entire being.

It had been a while since she had indulged in such a burst of rich, bellowing laughter.

Her mirth heaved and rocked everything within her.

She snorted and wiped a cheeky tear that tiptoed at the corner of her eye.

Her heart bloomed and blossomed.

She sighed and breathed deeply.

A content smile lit up her countenance.

She finally felt alive again.

Insignificant.

Invisible.

Infighting.

Thoughts crushing and clashing.

Emotions bashing burning.

Wrenching, wrecking my soul.

Oh! It hurts, lacerates, and breaks me.

Lift my countenance; I cannot.

Lift my spirit, I know not.

Lift my existence, I shy from.

Discarded, disregarded, destroyed, am I?

 

She struggled to stay afloat.

The more she strived, the faster she sank into the quicksand of debt.

She knocked at every door she could find.

But they remained shut, unyielding, indifferent to her plight.

Her heart became sick as hope deferred.

She hung her head and slowly faded away.

She staggered, lost and alone in the desolate landscape of her life.

Fatally wounded by her existence fraught with difficulties, she expired.

 

Life is beautiful.

Living hurts deeply, sometimes.

I fall flat on my face.

I cry out in agony as my soul cracks and splinters.

I cannot mend my broken heart no matter how hard I try.

Oh! Life happens even to the best of us, leaving us disillusioned and depressed.

Luckily, my bosom friend hope comes along and holds me together.

Hope lifts me and helps me stand on my wobbly feet.

I fix my eyes on the next step I take.

Moment by fragile moment is all I can manage to handle.

Hope hugs me and whispers gently, ” well done. You are doing well.”

I keep moving, no matter how insignificant my effort seems.

I will not stop, for therein lies my strength.

They stood by the roadside, seizing the moment.

They squeezed as much warmth, camaraderie, and catching up as they could in the limited time they had.

As they parted ways, they discreetly turned to look at each other.

Their eyes mirrored the longing that pierced their soul.

They missed the world they knew and shared in the past.

A wistful smile lingered on their lips as their eyes locked.

Their shared memories resurfaced and kissed their yearning hearts.

They turned away, pulled by their respective lives’ obligations and daily routines. 

The sweet aroma of their encounter lingered in their soul.

It was an oasis in the desert of busyness in the city.

 

I ran away.

I hid behind my well-put-together appearance.

I buried my head in the sand of denial.

I have now come full circle, back to the same place.

I gaze at my fractured reflection; this is who I am.

I am weaknesses and difficulties.

I am gifts and talents.

I am stuck with myself in this love-hate relationship.

I am a big messy jigsaw puzzle.

I kept stretching and straining my neck.

I stood gawking at the beautiful, neat puzzles that surrounded me.

I burned with envy.

I look outside, and it is a new dawn.

It is a new year.   

The sunrays tentatively touch my brow.

I sit and allow hope to germinate in my soul.      

I reach out for my puzzle.

Piece by piece, step by step. 

Even if it’s only three minutes a day, it is okay.

For it is progress.

I am moving forward.

I am not stopping, no matter how slow the journey is.

I am alive now; it is a precious gift.

I will open up to each day, petal, by petal, until I fully blossom.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

 

 

I have been quiet for a while now.

Life deeply hurt me again.

The fog of pain that had blinded and numbed my soul is slowly lifting.

I breathe in, I exhale.

I am alive.

So, live I shall, despite my bleeding heart.

For, life is still beautiful.

Here is what I do now; I stay afloat while smelling the roses.

 

 

It’s a new day.

The sky is cloudy, and rain beacons.

I am home alone.

The silence indoors envelopes me with its cozy blanket.

I watch the morning breeze shake the world awake in my backyard.

The cock is crowing, and the birds are chirping. 

My tummy is full to the brim.

My eyelids are droopy.

They have given up the fight against the bobbing, calming waves of sleep that are reluctant to relinquish their hold on me.

 

 

Oh! would you please hold me?

Gather me together, for the fragments of my life are slipping off my fingers.

My splintered heart is bleeding.

My eyes are weary because of sleepless nights.

Sweet slumber has eluded me as I wait for you, dear hope.

Longing for you in vain has made my soul sick.

Yet, I will keep on hoping that you will lift me out of the ashes of my despair as you did in the past.

 

Life seems to have gone back to normal.

But what is normal?

Everything is moving forward.

Yet, I feel like I am being pulled and pushed in confusing, contradicting directions.

I am in a whirlwind.

I am losing my footing.

What do I do?

I am at a loss.

So, I go through the motions.

I carry out my daily tasks to the best of my ability.

There are moments I am overwhelmed by the daily routine.

I then wear a rictus of a smile and do the much I can.

I stare at my flimsy and seemingly irrelevant achievements.

Yet, that is all I am capable of as for now.

 

I have been away for a while now.

I am back.

I am trying not to fall apart.

Life happened.

Living broke me.

The existence I knew shattered before my very eyes.

 

I lay wounded, bleeding.

I have nursed my wounds.

I wobble, bending my knees in a bid to regain balance.

I am back on my feet again, barely standing.

I am slowly healing.

Life, as I knew it, has evaporated into nothingness.

 

I struggle to find normalcy.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot attain it.

It is like grasping after smoke and walking on sinking sand.

The more I try, the deeper I sink.

A friend threw me a rope of wisdom.

It is a lifeline that has helped me inch out of this quicksand of terror, suffocating pain, and despair.

 

He told me to hold on.

To keep moving forward.

A step, an inch, or a millimeter at a time is enough.

That is what I am doing now.

It is not perfect.

But at least I am starting to breathe again.

 

My tears fall inwards.

I have swallowed my pain.

I am numb to all feelings, good or bad.

It sneaked on me.

I didn’t realize what was happening, until the sleepless nights pounced on me. 

Insomnia shrouded me with its heavy, stifling mantle.

Ulcers ambushed me, clobbered me senseless and lacerated my hapless stomach.

Then it finally dawned on me.

I hadn’t swallowed my pain. 

It had eaten me alive.

Pain stared back at me, waiting avariciously for my foot to slip, licking its greedy lips, wanting more.