The Uuuhs and Aaarghs of my life

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

All isn’t All

All is not All
Oh, how heavy the load of our longings when we make them the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our hope when we make it the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our dreams when we make them the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our deepest of trust when we make it the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our purest of love when we make it the responsibility of One.

One that isn’t ourselves.

One that isn’t God.

One that just can’t make us whole.

One that genuinely can’t be strong enough to carry it all, even if they truly care.

One who deceives us that All they’ve got it All.

All is not All.

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Goodbye Seattle


Night’s at bay, and I can hear the moon calling.

As I look outside the cafe window, sipping my coffee.

I wait, looking at the reflection of my yellow dress.


I long for an awakening – a purple moon, a train of shooting stars, and perhaps… a sun popping out of a box of gravity.


But as the evening moon rises, I realise it’s too late.

Your spectacle is over, and I showed up shy of a coffee with you.

I stand up and look back,

All along, I realise, I’d been trapped on the inside, as you danced outside with the one dressed in a green dress.


It’s strange, 

How your towering space needle once marvelled me.

Now, it grieves me to see your silhouette skyline.

A horizon I knew I could never reach.

A moment I never lived out.


I wish, for a moment,

You stopped the rhythm, broke the window and called me to join you in dance.


But the evening moon is calling,

Louder and louder.

And I’ve answered.


Goodbye Seattle.

The beautiful city that was never mine.

A Last Dance in the Rain

Dancing in the Rain

a last dance in the rain

 

It’s raining outside,
And the sound of gentle drops on my window is beautiful and calming.

So I push back the curtain,
Peek out the window with nostalgic wonder.

And I’m met with a blue-grey blanket of rain,
One that paints a sweet memory of us, silent, listening to our hearts beat.

It’s hard to believe,
All I can sense of you now is hidden in pockets of nature.

Yet still,
Feel robbed of a chance to encounter our nature.

Days go by,
These memories, I fear, will start to fade.

As I dream of a time when you were the rain,
And I ran outside,
And we gently danced our last in nature’s embrace.

A Widow’s Wish

A Widow's Wish

A Widow’s Wish

Today, I thought about my dear Grandma Jenny and what life has been like as a widow for most of her adult life. She never remarried and at times I find her in the living room holding on to an old photo of my late grandfather.

Sometimes I wonder what crosses her mind when she thinks about her beloved. I wrote this reflection inspired by her and with a touch of foresight on my part:

I wish to grow old with my friend.
I wish to enjoy him still seeing me as the pretty young girl he saw when he first met me.
Oh! How I wish to dance with him every Sunday evening in our old house, dusted with sweet memories.
I wish to hold on to his old hands and still feel safe.
I wish to listen to his heartbeat and find home.
I wish to kiss him, burry myself in his embrace, close my eyes and enjoy his scent.
I wish to stare into his old eyes and know for sure that with him, I would do it all over again.

I wish to grow old with my friend, 
Father of my children, 
Home of my heart,
One whose love will forever echo even in my old heart.

~ For Grandma Jenny.

Every moment in life counts

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A butterfly has got a lifespan of about 2weeks to 2months.

Still she floats in the air, flying joyfully and warming many hearts.
The fact that her life is too short doesn’t hinder her from capturing many people with her beauty.

She flaps her delicate wings, from flower to flower, blind to the uncertainty of another tomorrow. She lives in the now of today.

Every moment in life is precious and another chance to shine with all beauty that already exists in you.

Don’t let the pains, problems, or the unknown turn the beauty of your life into grey.

Why Speak Nice over the Grave?

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Why do we celebrate people when they die instead of doing so when they are still with us?

How about we:

Shower people with flowers and not their graves.

Shed tears of joy because they are still here, not tears of sadness because they are no more.

Say all the good to them when their ears and hearts are still active, not when their senses have been arrested.

Speak nice things about them instead of petty gossip, before our words mean nothing when we speak nice over their graves.

Don’t be a follower of the dead and gone, they won’t get the chance to hear, smile and feel loved following your support.

Celebrate people when they are still alive!

The Pain that Heals

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Ever heard someone share a personal story that you totally identified with and learned from?

Today, I asked myself about the confidence it must take for such people to open their hearts in public about a painful moment in their lives – for the sake of empowering others.

Furthermore, I asked myself what would happen to me if these people suddenly stopped reaching out to me though their personal stories. How then would I get practical lessons on how to face life?

A friend recently enlightened me when she said that to be a true mentor and touch lives I must be prepared to be vulnerable. This type of vulnerability is not about being emotional or mushy. It deals with deliberately sharing your life stories – truths, hurts, victories, challenging lessons – with people so that they may identify with you as a real human being and learn from what you did wrong or what you did right.

Many of us have gone through hills and valleys in the journey of life. But why is it always easier to share about the good things? Is it because they paint us better, is it easier, is it less damaging to our reputations?

Why is it that we cannot share about the very same things we need help with?

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Her Heart to Yours

Emma* who is a mother of three went through a bad marriage for 10years. After a lovely Sunday afternoon spent with her kids in church and at the pizza place, she would go home to a mouthful of mockery from her drunken husband. He would call her a whore and that going to church would not help her cover up her filthy acts. He had been unfaithful to her and had slowly started shifting the guilt towards her which triggered obsession. But this only became worse with time when her husband beat up their children suspecting that they might have not been his. The little one who was only 7-years-old was hit so hard that he lost consciousness. Emma spent the night in hospital waiting for her son to recover. This is when she picked us her phone and made the call she had always avoided for years. She called up her mother who had always had her suspicion about James from the day she met him. Her mother had always tried calling her even after her rushed wedding but she never answered. She was filled with guilt having realised that her mother had been right about James after all. Her mother promised to be at the hospital by morning. Emma prayed all night until her mother arrived. Emma was able to rescue her children from an abusive father and from the dangers of an abusive and broken marriage. Now, a happily married mother of four Emma realises that if she did not take that bold step to leave her husband, she would be in double jeopardy since her ex-husband was found dead in his house after refusing to resolve an outstanding bill at a local pub. During her trying times, she remembered feeling helpless even at church because everyone else seemed so perfect. No ladies talked about their challenging times; just how happy they are and how their children are doing well. Emma now purposes to talk to young ladies who are thinking about marriage and those who are newly wedded. She opens her home to them so that they can share their challenges and successes. She has learnt that the best way to touch people’s lives is by sharing the hurts and challenges and the lessons she learned from it all. Because of this, many ladies who had faced and overcome marital wars started opening up about the challenges faced in marriages even with young ladies who had often been misled by media and other women about the real face of marriage.

*Emma is not a real name.

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This may seem like just another story about a woman who faced a tough time and is now living a better life. But just think about it, how many people don’t get to see the other side and heal? How many have that one person they can call up and help them though a rough patch in life?

One thing I have come to learn from my interactions with relatives, friends, neighbours and total strangers is that there are so many hurt people in this world. There is so much of it that people prefer to think that they are facing their own unique type of hurt. The truth of the matter is that hurt is hurt – it steals, it kills and it destroys when we don’t learn from it and get stuck in it.

But finding that one ray of hope to see and even pursue the life beyond hurt is what makes us a unique creation as the human race. It all starts with a step, and it begins with you.

How can you make yourself more available to receive help or to help another person?

How willing are you to learn from other people’s experiences?

How willing are you to share, teach and train people having achieved a handy experience?

What are you waiting for? Go right ahead and do it!

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The human race does not break because of what we give (or don’t give) materially but because of what we say (or not say), what we show (or not show) or what we learn and not share.

Open your heart and share a pain that heals and empowers lives. It was and has never been in vain!

 

Yours Truly,

Ayuma.

 

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