The first rays of this golden light

There is a grace in nature
which heals the broken-hearted
by the gentle rays of the morning sun,
the melodic swaying of the trees,
an overdose of beauty which fills
the heart with awe and tenderness
for the power which tries so hard
to please us all.

It’s only far away from the bustling cities
and utilitarian traces of humanity
that I can feel the cosmos wishing us well.
It’s only there that I can begin to feel
at ease again.

Morning in all its golden glory is
the most precious time of day.
It’s God whispering to us that we
matter so much to her that she created the sun
for us, and she created winter
so that the first rays of this golden light
would delight us forever.

This, of course, is a questionable thought
which only fresh mornings such as these
can possibly justify.

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It’s Enough to Know You by Heart

How my heart longs for you, my Beloved.
Who are you to me?
What kind of magic pulls me towards you,
against all the odds?

It feels irresistible, yet my mind is clouded with doubts.
Are you a mere past mistake, repeating itself infinitely
until I give up on love completely?
Believe me, my love, I am not far away from that.

My solitude, once cold, bitter and unwelcome
is becoming a warm blanket, wrapping me in safety and bitter-sweet tears.
I give infinite space to my emotions as they are bursting into being,
the distance between me and the outside world becoming so vast.
People’s voices becoming a distant echo,
my long and tiresome walks to respond to them becoming more and more rare.

As such, my heart will not be given away lightly,
only to sob with disappointment and self-doubt.
Enough of that!

Yes, I will love you from a distance,
replaying your words in my head for a while,
then exhaling them and letting go.
You too will become a memory,
stirring my weary heart over a silent cup of tea.

Yes, my Beloved, it’s enough
to know you
by heart
for a while.

seaside

New Blog For My Fiction and Poetry

Dear readers,

I’m happy to announce that I made a new blog where I will post my fiction and poetry.
I’ve decided to keep this blog for more personal musings and articles on emotional health, spirituality, the single life etc. 
If you are interested, you can find my new blog here

Wishing you a lovely day 🙂 

Let Me Come Back To Myself

I don’t need to go anywhere
No need to feel jealous of ambitious travel plans.
My luscious garden during spring
is positively bursting with life.
The golden flowers and deep green leaves
kissed here and there by glistering drops of dew
are brimming with the promise of renewal
as I exhale a little bit deeper each time.
Let me just sit here, on this sparkling white bench
the sun caressing my weary face.
Let me leave behind the bustle and dreary business
of the Internet
the clouds of confusion and urgent longings
finger-painted by other people, but never really mine.
Let me feel the pulse of my wild heart again.
Yes,
Let me come back to myself for a little while.

A Poem about the Stars

Apparently the month of April is national poetry month. I know April has almost come to its close, but I still felt like taking on a challenge and maybe doing some of the prompts the website NaPoWriMo gave. So yesterday I wrote a poem of negation and today I attempt to write one about the stars. I played around with rhyme a bit, though it’s not my forte. I must admit that it’s hard for me to write a good poem based on prompts, and that I often struggle with finding the right English words. Therefore, I’m playing with the idea of maybe starting another blog in my native language (Dutch) to experiment and see if it goes more fluently there. But musings, doubts and self-criticism aside, here is my poem about the stars.

When the soothing cloak of Night descends
and even the loudest mouth rests his head
to his heart’s content
I know you are out there,
wandering the streets
that gentle breeze stroking your precious face.

I gaze upon those twinkling lights
bursting into being each night
I ponder them sleepless
until one of them stands out.

My window opens almost by itself
The butterfly stuck inside
can’t help herself
she dances, swerves and jumps out of sight.
I reach and pluck those little lamps of hope
only to discover that their light
faded long ago.

Still I clutch one and hold it close
hoping that on her your gaze
once arose.

Spring!

The first rays of golden sunshine
the first cheeky birds
Singing their song full of confidence
touching the trees with their contagious gladness
‘Come on,’ they sing,’bloom once more!’
And the trees, drowsy from another chilly winter
cannot resist that colourful dance of life erupting
unapologetically, without restraint.
Like the old are brought alive by the young
Remembering the promise of summer once more.
They laugh heartily, gently embracing their creaking bones.

That life that is Me

Winter,
frozen rain, the earth
stripped of nourishment,
laid bare.
Icy wind plaguing vulnerable red skin.
Slowly, stumbling,
Cursing under my smoky breath
I try to find my heart
in this labyrinth of snow
and concealment,
scared of the drops of blood
along the way,
vivid, fiery, ominous,
scarring nature’s peaceful tapestry.

A life has been wasted here
my mind snarls
Go back now, for God knows
what tragic death you may find.
I’d rather wish you didn’t look, didn’t see,
didn’t wander out in this godforsaken weather,
collecting bones, mending raw flesh.
You are not strong enough, how could that escape your notice?
You won’t be able to stand what you see,
you will cry, you will scream, you will lose your mind,
you will fall to your knees and never get up. You will be
consumed with grief.
Please go back now, woman, return to your cosy sleep.
I doubt, I wonder, I bite my teeth too hard

But a flicker of light in the depths of me,
a memory of wild laughter and merriment
under the full moon
makes me unable to halt,
unable to stop looking,
for that life that’s been wasted,
that life that is me.

I Am Alive

All life is sacred, this is the truth.
Tell me, what makes the force, the power, the passion
flowing through a cow’s or chicken’s veins
any less worthy or meaningful than human blood?
We mangle, kill and destroy the soulful beings who have no voice
just as we kill off our own silent instinctive nature.
We feed our children the flesh of another mother’s baby
and give them the milk meant to nourish that young animal life
to drink, as if animal bodies are ours to own and mistreat.

Tell me, if we believe that our soul lives forever,
who is to say we won’t return to this green earth
as a pig huddled in a cage, without any right to live?
Would the argument that people give to possess you,
that you have no voice, no intelligence, no dreams
be enough to ignore the coldness of your chains at night?

Would it comfort you when they tear your little ones away from you,
laugh at your cries of despair, and treat you like living meat on wheels?
Would you still remember why it was somehow ok
that humans defined your experience and claimed to know what you were
without looking in your eyes to see your soul staring back at them
screaming “I am alive!”

My Haunted Garden

There is a deep abyss in my heart
A black hole where cold winter and decay
are perpetual visitors.
I’ve tugged the sleeves of others
looking pleadingly at what they could give
me
but it was never enough
to be the sun to my frozen day.

I’m scared to death sometimes
that my heartache and bitter tears have strangled love
that I’m forever incapable of feeling
any warmth, tenderness or generosity
in that forsaken place.
Any lover or well-meaning friend
is venturing on a perilous journey indeed
if they try to light a fire
in my haunted garden of broken promises
and innocence lost too soon.