From the Heart
It’s pointless buying summer clothes, in England nowadays.
For moments when the sun pops out, and holidays away.
We wear them and we shiver, at home the hearings on.
One blink and I’ll miss summer, the evenings are just long.
I’m fed up with this country, fed up with the cold.
I’m sick of hearing summers here, fed up of being told.
So I’m packing up my summer bits, into the case they go.
I’m off in search of sunshine, before we see the snow!
The flowers are rejoicing, a bee has sauntered by.
They dance, they sing, hold heads aloft, up to the smiling sky.
The bee is quite oblivious, to the happiness he caused.
He spotted a bright flower and thought he’d take a pause.
So he takes his fill and wonders on, through the flowers bright.
They hope he will return again before they close tonight.
No man is an island , entire of itself ~ John Donne
We are all interconnected, not one of us is without connection to something, someone, somewhere.
We are physical beings and therefore need the connection of others to survive. We were born onto a family, for good or bad we wouldn’t be here without them. We need confirmation that we exist, that we are in fact present. We need LOVE, warmth and kindness and sometimes someone to stand up to us and tell us that they think we are wrong. We need to be able to measure ourselves against others, understand our own progress.
I’m fiercely independant but I need people around me for confirmation of myself, I need to love and be loved. I learn from those I listen to and watch, sometimes the learning is from not doing as they do.
On my solitary days I need the elements of nature, the sun on my cheeks and air to breath. I am reliant on nature to sustain me, I rely on the beauty of the universe to help me create and remind me of my creations.
And when I’m gone, I will remain in my family, my memories and my laughter.
In response to the Daily Prompt – Island
New to this challenge on finding beauty in everything by PhoTrablogger and linking back.
I’m not sure if I’ve got it right but aren’t these little baby seagulls just beautiful. Dirty roof, scruffy birds but hope!
Our trauma is not obvious,
so everyone can know.
It’s usually buried deep inside,
too far to really go.
Jumps up when we are unaware,
and slaps us round a bit.
Dives back before we notice,
it’s always far too quick.
We feel it in our stomaches,
we feel it in our heads.
Never really leaves our mouths,
there’s nothing to be said.
If we knew what it was made of
we would have it in our net.
But moments we remember,
are easy to forget.
And so we keep it buried,
while it’s silent and asleep.
The monster of experience,
the one we have to keep.
Listen while I’m silent and show me that you know
Watch me very closely, don’t let the small things go
My actions tell my stories, they’ll tell you of my grief
My truth is what I hold inside but only love can see
I’m muddled and confused, my thoughts are over there
If only you could sort them out, you’d do it if you care
I smile outside of you and me, I put on a good face
At other times I cry a lot, I shout, I scream, I pace
I am a lot of tiny bits, that haven’t got a place
Look into my eyes and see, they go beyond my face
Give me time and give me love, sit with me a while
I think that it is maybe you that can really find my smile
This is how I would die into the love I have for you:
As pieces of cloud dissolve in sunlight ~ Rumi
Sadness, it took you when you had more time ahead.
Coldness of your skin, as I tucked you in bed
Laughter we avoided as it might make you cough
Every moment painful, the same with my loss.
Raynaud’s phenomenon, that turned hands to stone
Oxygen cylinders all over all our homes
Drugs I can’t spell, piled up to swallow
Everything hard but you wouldn’t wallow
Reminders of you are not all this disease
Magnificent moments, that put me at ease
Always my mum………
It’s world Scleroderma Day tomorrow, today would have been my mum’s birthday.
Felicity was a simple woman, the simpleness of her manner, the simplicity of her dress and the ease of her movement told you so. Yet she had great clarity, she had an intuition that was beyond this world a clarity so powerful that she had no need to worry as others might, she just enjoyed the simplicity of life and waited.
Felicity knew where she was going and she knew why she was here and that was enough, that was all that she needed. She did what she wanted in life, she sold flowers and painted. She didn’t involve herself in elaborate bouquets for weddings and other such functions, just bunches of wild meadow flowers she grew in her garden and collected from the fields and hedgerows around the village. Her paintings of nature, flowers and sunsets were a reflection of her beautiful mind, Felicity dealt in beauty.
Felicity also made healing teas and creams, she studied the flowers and nettles and treated those who asked. Felicity wasn’t a sales woman, she never put out her wares, people just came when they heard about her. This was usually after seeing a painting hanging elsewhere, a floral display at an event or heard of a miraculous recovery.
Felicity never promoted herself but knew without doubt she would be okay, she would be looked after. When money was needed to pay a bill or mend the roof, so an order would come in or there would be a knock at the door. She didn’t have a computer or telephone, she hadn’t heard of social media or its purpose but life was okay. Felicity didn’t crave riches, she didn’t want to be cold and hungry but at the same time didn’t wish for anything beyond her simple means.
Felicity did not see beauty in material things, she didn’t need high fashion, state of the art gadgets or a bigger and smarter home. She didn’t see beauty in anything else apart from the world around her and because of this she was beautiful beyond wealth and status.
Felicity enjoyed listening to music, she loved the opera her favourite piece from La Wally, although she didn’t have anything but an old record player to listen to and this was enough. She found music in life, the sound of dawn breaking, the sound of the rain hitting the trees and the sound she found in stillness.
People felt very drawn to Felicity, they wanted to be in her company, listen to her and ask her opinions on their own lives. Felicity did not profess to know the future but she was always right. Felicity was a healer through her words as well as any potions, maybe more so. She instilled peace and contentment in others by helping them see their own lives through her eyes. The worried, worried less, the lonely felt comforted and thought about and the grieving felt closer to their loved ones sitting in her company.
Felicity knew and waited for life to unfold and everybody who knew her waited with her trusting in her beautiful soul.
It is so easy to feel fenced in and trapped by our surroundings. I like to think of a fence as a safety measure. Not something to hold us back but a reminder, sort of pause, to help us think about where we are going and how to get there.
How often do you see flowers blooming over fences, poking through in all their glory to find the sun or blow in the breeze. Fences are made for flowers, they help them climb, they hold them up and they support them. I think that if we view fences or barriers in life this way we might recognise the way in which they might help out growth.
Fences can be our allies, our crutches and our props. They don’t always hold us back, sometimes they protect us from moving forward to quickly, from harm.
lizalizaskysaregrey 