From the Heart
He told me I was a ‘natty‘ dresser,
I had not a clue what he meant.
I hoped that it was something good,
as a man he was so heaven sent.
I considered if it meant crazy,
was he taking the ‘mick’ out of me.
Maybe when I looked in the mirror,
I didn’t see what he could see.
But I graciously said thank you,
with my fingerless crossed so tight.
I hoped that he might ask me out,
that he really felt I was alright.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
After the rain had fallen it’s last,
the clouds now empty will stray.
Like challenges that come and pass,
we too can now start a new day.
As the sun shows it’s warmest face,
lighting up what was once dark.
As brightness after challenges will,
though it might leave it’s mark.
As flowers often still hang their heads,
as wet from the gales of the night.
It might take us a while to get up again,
to fully get over each plight.
Then like a bee we bravely emerge,
trusting that things might be calm.
Looking back at the past as it fades,
so thankful we came to no harm.
After our storm has done it’s worst,
warmth will enter our lives again.
It’s the same with a rainy season,
the sun will come out after rain.
The rawness of each emotion we feel,
soothed as the storm passes on.
Standing up tall despite the past,
for our lives will still move along.
We retrieve the hopefulness we lost,
and we start to pick up our pace.
Oh the storms will come and go in life,
it’s a fact that we all have to face.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
I’ve never really worn a uniform,
at least not the way I should.
I always made it different,
but not like a good girl should.
You see uniforms are not for me,
I don’t want to be like the rest.
I won’t be put up for inspection
and I’d never pass the test.
Don’t include me in the masses.
as I like to be one of a kind.
I won’t conform if I don’t agree,
this can happen at any time.
It’s not that I’m fighting order,
as I understand why it’s there.
It’s not that I’m obstructive
and it isn’t that I just don’t care.
It’s just I’m a little different you see,
I don’t want to be like you.
If my daily outfit speaks out for me,
it’s something I should choose.
I won’t go out with a uniform on,
as that would never suit me.
I’ll make my own statement for now
and be who I want to be.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
Tell me if somethings imaginary,
is it just because we can’t see.
Why does it spring out of nowhere,
how does it really come to be.
If it’s an image that’s not really true,
how do we create it in our mind.
Crazy when you start to think about it,
it’s not there yet we somehow find.
Is imagination just an excuse for us,
to explain things others can’t see.
And is it really that unbelievable,
or is my mind only clear to me.
I wonder if life is just in our heads,
and everything we see is just fake.
The life we’re living a big pretence,
and our believing just a mistake.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
We all present ourselves differently,
externalising ourselves to the world.
What we show on the outside of self,
is the way that our stories are told.
The messages we give in our silence,
as we dance or crawl through time.
They portray how we are truly feeling,
deep sadness or feeling just fine.
Sometimes we present ourselves loudly,
as brassy and so incredibly bold.
Remember that is just on the surface,
it’s the way that our stories are told.
As such noise can often distract us,
put a glare right in front of what’s real.
Protecting a vulnerable heart inside,
of our fear that somebody might steal.
These bodies are really just vehicles,
as we arrive here we enter the mould.
We are here to experience the physical,
in that way that our stories are told.
But the truth is really way deep inside,
beyond anything the external might sell.
Way deep in the hearts of our beings,
it’s from there the true stories we tell.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
They called her brassy, big, loud and larger than life. Maude was a gentle and loving soul but this is not how she portrayed herself. Maud liked to wear tight fitting clothes over her well covered body. The more gentile women would tut as they walked past, they had decided from a distance that she was a woman of a certain kind and best to be avoided.
Maude fitted into the mould she had created, she wore far to much make up, far to many chains around her neck and wore her hair up with an added hairpiece, a look more fitting for a girl than a more mature woman. Maude created the personality she believed would get her through life, it had, it gave her the confidence she needed but never the love she desired. Maude always met the wrong man because she had no idea of how to attract the right one.
Maude’s childhood had been difficult, she had not experienced love from her parents, she always felt and was told she was an accident. She wasn’t wanted, she was ignored for the most part and verbally and physically abused at others. Maude left home at the earliest opportunity, falling for a local lad who showed her more interest than she’d experienced before. Maude was pregnant at fifteen and married at sixteen, a girl herself, she found herself responsible for a family.
Maude learnt how to work the system, her husband Bob put what money they had over the bar of the local tavern and if she was going to feed her family Maude needed to tell the odd tale or two. She realised early on that to be listened to and noticed she had to create something quite different, she had to hide any vulnerability, show no fear and charge at the world head on, Maude was certainly a force to be reckoned with if ever there was.
Maud had so many layers that she didn’t really know who she was, so many walls around her that even she couldn’t break them. Maude believed she fitted the lies she had created, she recognised herself in the person she had become. Maude had tried to cover her fragmented and difficult beginning in life in an attempt to become whole and yet the whole Maude created had nothing to do with the person she was. Maude was her own work of art and yet it was not in her original style, quite simply, Maude was a fake.
The day Maud was knocked over on that crossing was the day she went home, home to her childhood and home to who she really was. Stripped in hospital of her clothes, jewels and make up, Maude found herself. She found herself in the people she spoke to, she found herself in the kindness of the nurses and she found herself in the girl in the next bed who was interested in what she had to say.
Maude was in a coma for six weeks, it was felt unlikely she would survive, but she did, she did more than that she broke down her own walls. Somewhere in the space of the coma, in a place she was safe and at a time just right for her, Maude found home. A lifetime of being someone else, a brassy tart, evaporated. Maude survived and in surviving realised she didn’t need to create anymore, she could be herself.
Something about the respite from life gave Maude a second chance, gave her opportunity to recreate and in doing so she chose to be herself. Surrounded by care and love she felt at home, she allowed the love she had buried to resurface, the gentleness to cross her brow.
Maude’s recovery was slow but her transformation miraculous, a lifetime of lies got knocked over that day but Maude stood up.
The moral of this story is we all get knocked down, but each time we get up we are closer to ourselves.
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
We are all connected, our energies and colours naturally blend together, we are not meant to be totally alone here. As much as our individuality is important, our time out essential, so to is our ability to connect, to realise we are all but one and connected to a divine source.
~ Liza
Lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
Often we have to have been broken to find ourselves, have had something happen to us that has caused cracks. These cracks are to big to fill, these cracks leave us wide open and vulnerable.
When we crack, when we are damaged we are more inclined to look inside to see how we can put ourselves back together again. Looking at the damaged object, we consider our purpose and in doing so question how we can repair ourselves in order to serve this purpose.
To find ourselves we have often been hurt, fearful or confused by life events, these occurrences leading us to our own centres, leading us to our very being.
Does the breaking of the heart cause it to open, maybe because in my experience those who know themselves have been broken, broken into so many pieces that they have to work hard to put themselves back together.
This is often when we find something outside of ourselves, God, divinity, universal energy, whatever you want to call it, but making this connection is often the glue that makes us whole again as piece by piece, portion by portion, we put ourselves back together again.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
If I could give you back a fraction,
of the love you lavished onto me.
A tiny portion of your kindness,
for the whole wide world to see.
That love can heal so many things,
it restores us back to health.
A valuable thing you showed to me,
and vaster than any wealth.
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
lizalizaskysaregrey 