Filling up



Dear Girl with the big, wide eyes,

Once upon a time I thought I had so much to give. The way my heart used to swell up, so round and full had me convinced of that. There was always so much in there, pressing against the edges desperate for release. It became essential, the pouring out of myself, like breathing.

What do people need? I asked myself. People need love, and so love is what I gave. I stopped time and emptied pockets in order to lay hold of the last shreds of love in any given instance so it could be packaged and given away to a soul that needed it. Read More

Dear new born baby in apartment no.8


We have a new born babe in our apartment block. The baby’s cry enters all eight of our homes unbidden filling all the spaces with a sound that evokes nostalgia, tenderness, hope. That fresh, unadulterated, heart-clutching cry of a newly arrived into-the-world little person. The other day I was sitting on my bed reading when the cry bounded into my room. It invaded my body, wringing my heart this way and that way. I closed my book and listened. Just listened. And the thoughts came and flooded me. So I picked up my pen and wrote:

Dear new born baby in apartment no.8

Welcome little one, welcome.

How good does that air feel in your small lungs? To be able to breathe is a gift you will come to appreciate. The sheer magnittude of it will consume you.

Your family must be thrilled now that you are here, in the world. You are a bundle of joy. I bet they watch you as you sleep sometimes and catch themselves breathless.

“How did we make such a perfect little person?” your father whispers to your mother.

Your mother smiles and kisses him lightly on the lips, “We did, didn’t we?” she replies her voice thick with emotion.

They will remember these moments forever. You will not. For now, people will carry you. And they will even carry most of your memories for you. One day they will hand them to you in stories and picture albums. Narratives and family histories. It will be grand and funny, painful and beautiful. You will hold these crafted and secure images of your beginning in your hands and finally pull them into yourself. They will become your own memories .

You will not stay a baby. Your limbs will pull in all sorts of directions and extend your body and your mind into childhood, then teenagehood and finally adulthood. So much will happen in your life. The ups and downs of being a human being that I feel the strongest urge to protect you from. But they are necessary if you are going to learn what it means to be here on this planet. This honour and privilege of being alive. I hope your mama and papa will prepare you for some of those things, for life.

But know also that there is only so much they can do. Alot of your life will unfold because life happens and because you sit at the reins of it. You will make decisions. A large part of your life will be the outcome of the things you think, say and do; the things you will become as a fully defined person. Trust me, it will be difficult but it will be beautiful.

The world, it is in a mess right now, I cannot lie. And I am sorry that this is what you will inherit – the outcome of many bad choices by those of us who have been here longer which we too inherited from our forefathers before us. It is an endless cycle. And for any thinking and feeling person it is easy to get discouraged.

When you do get discouraged, don’t be too hard on yourself. You have a responsibility because you live on this planet but you are not a god commissioned to save yourself or anyone. This is a big deal. If you learn well the limits of your humanity you will avoid many a heartache.

And speaking of heartache I have to tell you about people. They are a beautiful species but they can also do senseless and hurtful things that leave you speechless. And sometimes you can never be prepared for that and for the pain relationships can bring to your doorstep. But know this little one; that when you find people who love you unconditionally, support you wholeheartedly, are firecely loyal and graciously allow you space to get up when you fall down; people who will stay through thick and thin as well as stay to figure out how to do relationships well, then hold on tight to these people. They are the ones. Wrap them around you. Tie them close. They are the best life will offer you.

The heartbreaks will teach you things too. Never shun them but don’t go looking for them either. Experience is not always the best teacher. Nor the kindest. Wisdom is.

You have an exciting journey ahead of you. And I hope the ups are just as rich and instructive as the downs. That when you look back on the whole thing, it will be one big, giant epic love story; your love affair with life. I will think of this every time I hear your little cry flow down into my apartment. And I will send out this prayer for you again and again. Until you no longer need it.


sentimental girl in no.5

Dear Monday

Dear Monday,

Don’t bring your blues with you. Leave them at the door before you walk in.

The fullness that has collected in this place will stay. We have our ropes tied close around each other – friendships dipped in gold, lovers and family. We will not despair because you remind us of struggles with jobs and responsibilities drained of passion. We will not secretly wring our hands behind our backs as we walk down the street to the office.

Put on a new cloak. Your place in the week is not to haunt us with dread. You are the door to the starting over of our labours and the creativity we want to fill our work desks with. You are grander than the attitude you hide behind. So stop it.

Show up with celebration. And we will grab you by the hand and make you sit with us, around lace tables as we talk about mastery and love. You lean in and witness your worth to us. You craddle us closer. You can feel the fire in our veins and the way our hearts beat for a life saturated with purpose.

When it is time, you dont have dregs in your cup, you leave fuller than you came. We’ll see you again next week.

Oh, and please leave the door open on your way out…so lovely Tuesday can leisurely stroll in in her pretty skirts. Brand newness for the giving, and for the receiving.

If THOR were real


If Thor were real, he would be you.

Whose eyes I would drown in. Whose chest would be heavy enough to take the imprint of my heart. It would be your hands that would pull me closer to shrink all the spaces between us. It would be your arms that would hold me, moulding every part of me to every part of you.

But Thor is not real. He is a figment of our imagination. A man-god on whose shoulders we have placed our belief in salvation. We like our saviours in capes, flying from one end of the heavens to the other saving the world & all the worthy damsels in distress along the way. Men can’t fly but we like to fantasize that they could. & what it would be like if they did.

I sat in the dark, holding my heart in my hands completely sucked into the illusion. This beautiful illusion that left me open & wanting more, more of the nothingness that exists between crafted reality & stories. I ached from this need just the way the world wants me to – grasping for the things that are not real & do not last. Things that move the soul to the edges of ecstasy promising so much but showing up on our stoop empty handed. This beautiful illusion was tempting, so tempting—

But Thor isn’t real. He is not you calling down lightening to rescue me. I don’t even need rescuing.

So, never mind Thor. I want you.

You in all your comfortable & uncomfortable ways you exist in the world. In all your rawness & awkwardness as a man who is trying to figure it out just like the rest of us. A man who is committed to loving me – me in all my parts.

I want to know you are real, in the way my fingers fit the spaces in-between yours, in the way your heartbeats hums at the touch of my hand because you feel me here, my skin against yours. & there is nothing else in this moment but grace. Shame has no place here. It huddles with fear outside our love, looking in & wanting what we have. But we won’t let it in. We are selfish for each other. There is no holding back. We see each other as we are, naked & vulnerable until you become me & I become you.  I want to love you like that.

I want to know you are real in the way you tell me to stop when I act out of character & when you listen to the words I do not say. You will stand in the gap for me, shielding me & all that is ours with your big, broad chest. No man can compete with you. I will love you with all the strength in my body.

If Thor were real, even he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Your side of the bed

side of the bed

Every morning I open my eyes & glance over to your side of the bed. This bed is too big for one person, I always think to myself. Why on earth did I get such a big bed?

I throw off the covers & I‘m ready for it. I’ve come a long way with my relationship with making the bed. It used to be my most despised chore but now I have grown to like it. to delight in it even.

Your side of the bed is always intact. perfect. unused. This bed is too big, I think again. It needs you in it. I need you in it.

When I was little, I used to think every woman had a man. Mama had Papa. & all my friend’s mommies had their pappies. I just knew it was the way of the world – that one day when I was all grown up, you would come along & complete the picture. easy, simple. 123.

It never crossed my mind that you would take so long – that I would become a woman of the world, accomplished in many ways & not have you to walk into when I was feeling threatened, vulnerable, teary & just down right weak. No, baby, I never thought you would take this long.

Sometimes I toss & turn. not because I can’t sleep but because this bed is too big & I can’t warm it all. Your side of the bed is cold & lonely. needing you. I need you.

In-between straightening the sheets, I think about my evolution. Of how I can tell you that I am not incomplete without you. I used to be. There is no hole in my heart that you can fill. & I don’t need you to. What I need is to love you senseless. to give you my all. because I can & because it has been given me to. I am complete in ways that make me feel safe in my incompleteness without you.

I fluff the pillows on your side of the bed & think of all the single ladies. just like me. who wait & wait & wait. Holding out for the best of you. My heart swells up with pride. Something has got to be said about them. them bold & beautiful women who value their hearts enough to put them in the right hands of a man.

I used to wait for you to come & change my life. to give meaning to it. I had handed you that power wrapped in coloured, silvery frills & ribbons. But I’m taking it back now. because it does not belong to you. It does not belong in your hands.

You are beautiful & intoxicating, no doubt, but you are not my saviour. I thought I had you figured out – I had you cornered & bound in intense feeling, emotion & passion. I didn’t see the other part – the privilege & opportunity for growth, adventure & service. You are all these things. You are my lover & friend. You are gold.

I am become free of you. so free that I can love you to bits & pieces. I can handle you under my skin. warm & thick like honey dripping. delicious. so very delicious.

I smile as I caress your side of the bed, thinking & knowing that when the time is right, you will come through that door & find your home. Besides me. In your side of the bed.

Smash, bang right into you

IMG_8366NB inside PillowStack

If there is a me, there must be a you. Another version of me.

With eyes of emerald green & arms strong enough to hold me through all the joy & pain of forever. I can rest my head on your heart & hear it beating through your cotton shirt. Knowing you’re flesh & real & here.

There is magic in your fingertips, burning love & acceptance into the thick of me. Into the very bones of me. I can count on you to stand on my shoulders & I on yours. Always my biggest fan. Always my biggest critic. My lover. My friend.

You are a man. Another version of me. And I want to run to you…run so fast, smash, bang, right into you. Our atoms disintegrating as they die in each other’s arms only to be sparked back to life as they hook into each other. Hooks made of heart & soul. Tough stuff of diamonds & gold. We become one as we remain separate.

I don’t know any other kind of love than the real kind. I don’t know how else to love. My Mother didn’t teach me. Instead she stitched deepness into my skin & taught me to breathe passion for oxygen. This is what I know & this is the only way I know to love.

It’s all-consuiming & powerful. reckless in its holding & loving of you. I know it.

I want to own you without possessing you.
I want to delight you without losing myself.
I want to love you with every bone in my body actively knowing that it is so.

I will make you pancakes on Sundays. write to you of strawberries & life every Monday through Friday. And on Friday nights, I will lay my head on your lap as you read me of how David slew the giant & God’s majesty in the life of His people.

There will be dishes to be washed. Beds to be made. Finances to be managed. & meals to be cooked. the daily grind of you & me & our home. You & I have got that covered.

There will be moments of bliss – love to be made, hands to be interlinked in silence & wonder. There will be moments of discord – but you & I will never leave each other in doubt that we are doing our best & that we are continuing to try. You & I will not leave it broken in our house.

You come first for me. I come first for you.
& God comes first for both of us.

Our love will grow & soar in the blue & night sky. It will reside in shooting stars that create magic as they travel the expanse of the universe.

I want to love you like that. No holding back. No fear. Right into the depths of you. Even into the place where you wrestle with & come into your manhood. Where words will sometimes not be needed. It will be enough that I am there. That you are there.

I am so into you. I am. Smash, bang, right into you.

To my lover, my friend; I know you are out there & you are going to find me

My secret wish is not so secret.

That you are sitting somewhere – in some city, in some country in this big, old world reading this. Coffee in hand and your heart beating faster as you soak in each word, each syllable. They melt inside of you, warming you in a way that is unique to me. You are hearing me. You are listening to me.

There is a part of me that believes in writing things into being. And so I hold this pen and strenuously scribble across the page hoping I can write you into my present, into my here and now. And on the way to finding me.

The truth is I’m desperate for you. For your love. You know all that stuff they say about desperate women? It’s untrue. Every woman is desperate in some way, they just hide it. I don’t blame them. We have been beaten into believe that it is a shameful thing to be desperate for a man. Well, I am not ashamed. I laid down my shame and buried it. I never want to see it again. I dug the hole myself. So, I’ll say it again; I’m desperate for you. In every way a woman can be for a man.

I know you cannot complete me but I’m still incomplete without you. I feel it deep down in my veins every morning when I wake up. Every pulse, every breath reminds me that you’re out there somewhere. You are the other half of me – the beat in my heart.

I won’t lie. Life is good. I’m finding my element – earth and fire. I’m coming into my own. Possessing myself in a way that grounds me and teaches me. Falling in love with the itsy bitsy parts of me that I’ve over looked in the past. I am a woman now because I finally see the woman in me. And she’s bubbling up like a goddess ascending from the water in all her fabulous glory. Life is good.

But it would be better with you in it. The way the daylight is made better with the sun or the difference the stars make to a night. You are the stuff my dreams are made of – sugar and spice, candy and pickle.

I am not looking for perfect. I’m looking for one with whom we will never leave each other in doubt that we are doing our best and that we are continuing to try. I’m looking for you.

I will love your skin off and layer you with my own. I will cover you with my being – always standing in the gap for you.

I am incredibly flawed but with me you can be assured of a genuineness that is out of this world – heavenly in nature. I will show you me in my most vulnerable – that is the best of me. No airs. No pretence. Just me – tender and raw. I am past the mushy stuff of love. I am the real kind – the kind of sweat and blood.

To feel your heartbeat next to mine. To feel my soul rumble because you are near. To drink you in – in silence and in sound. To carry your children in my womb. To grow with you. To break down and pick up the pieces with you. To love you. This is what I crave. You.

My secret wish is not secret anymore. You are reading this – taking it in like rain. I have done my part. Now do yours. Come find me, my lover, my friend. Come find me.