We have been given spring flowers and extra doses of sunshine this week. We are thawed, truly, in and out, from the winter spells. It makes me feel like a prisoner wrongly sentenced, but has now been released from the punishment. My spirits are better than ever, having spent several months wishing to surrender and disappear within myself. There’s no better sound than the sound of hope replenishing my soul; maybe the sound of raindrops filling a mud pot could contest and win.

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I am to live, laugh, and celebrate life.
How could I when I yearn for you?

My pen is blunt; it has become useless as a large piece of rock.
It’s no more than a weapon making annoying scraping noise in the depths of my soul.

There’s no other way now, says my Beloved, all doors are closed.

Where could I go?
To whom could I beg?
Lift that veil between us, I plead.

You laugh at my face with such cruelty.
Unkindness doesn’t suit you, my dearest.

Look at me. No, look at me, again, with all of your heart. Your eyes deceive you.

Do you see me drowning in this gutter?
Not far, not long, my dearest; what would you tell the world when you let me go like this?

Lift that veil; I don’t know why you would make me wait.
Did I hear you say that it hurts your fingers and hands?
Why do I love it, even when you lie?
Am I past redemption?

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Like my father, I was naive enough to not figure out when my mother's heart turned bitter. But now I know. It was when she served the burnt toast to her husband without any hesitation. It was when she folded his clothes, carelessly, inside out. How did he—we—fail to see that? Women like my mother knew to express love in simple terms—stuff that goes unnoticed usually. What a Wretched fate to chase love!

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I understand my need for slow, peaceful mornings. I understand my need for watching the sparrows eat, so I feed them before my morning coffee. I understand why I need a clear mindset. I understand why I feel everything deeply, and how it’s not always a bad thing. I understand a little more about myself than yesterday. And that’s what healing does—it doesn’t guarantee a painless life—but a meaningful change.

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The taut, unyielding, unforgiving line

(Rest in the caption)

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Bits and pieces with the father I never had…

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What does heaven offer me that your loving gaze cannot? What could any hell possibly do to my soul that your absence doesn't already inflict?

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When I say I’m broken, I don’t mean I have lost myself in the labyrinth of life. It means that my views on life and this world have been changed—splintered, crushed, and melded into something unrecognisable. And that makes my existence even more remarkable because my mind would work twice as hard to create a new reality, shaped by this new experience until I am broken again…

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Two bodies have become unnecessary, burdensome and an impediment. Imagine uniting the two fragments of the same soul split and put in our bodies. ‘Use the four arms, hug tightly around the waist; scooch! That’s not nearly enough to put the fragments together. But your rib cage is poking…’ How inconvenient! How useless! But how cleverly put that way to feel the incompleteness, so we could hold each other together, again, and again, and again…
what a brilliant excuse!

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Constancy

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