Scattering

“In one of those stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night. And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend…I shall not leave you.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

“Aim for the moon. If you miss, you may hit a star.”
– W. Clement Stone

“Here is my secret. It’s quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Scattering

Every new

Moon

I curl up

In my

Curvaceous

Crescent

Encircled

By each

Starry night

Celestial dreams

Await me

There is no man

Here

I control

The ebb

And flow

Of the

Seas

I watch

Over your

Attempts

To comprehend

Me

To encapsulate

Into ode

Or song

It is difficult

When you

Haven’t

The language

Of the

Universe

Bemused

My laughter

Scatters

Stardust

Bisous,

Léa

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Nature provides and other words of wisdom…

Years ago I met a cultural anthropologist and “new age” teacher named Angeles Arrien. Small, earthy, and whimsical, Arrien felt familiar to me like a beloved aunt, and I found the combination in her of scholar, Basque heritage, creativity and open heartedness captivating as well as confidence inducing. This delightful woman introduced me in a […]

via Our original medicine — A Woman’s Way of Knowing

mirror mirror

If you are ever short of inspiration, I recommend a visit to Creative Bursts for a Writing challenge: One morning, your mirror starts talking to you. Write about this.       – Sandy Ackers at CREATIVE BURSTS: sandy@sandyackers.com

*

“It is not what you look at that matters, it is what you see.” -Henry David Thoreau

MIRROR MIRROR

*

like the acidic womb

you were delivered from

i’ve reiterated all your flaws

humiliation feeding your soul

fuelling your tears

shattering your heart

*

no conscience bothered me

so use to reflecting the environment

deceptively, i reflect light

while in truth, shallow, cold, judgemental

shaming that tiny red face

quivering chin

eyes twin faucets of tears

no beauty, no value here

*

believing my lies

you sank deeper, inward

hanging your head

turning from my glare, unaware

lies, judgement come from ignorance

my own blindness unquestioned

you looked for others in pain

focusing on their wounds

helping them heal

*

you have learned

to look deeper

reading eyes and hearts

of others

as i could never do

finding beauty that escapes me

learning to see it in yourself

confident a mirror cannot be

believed on face value

*

bisous,

léa

The other side of the story – National Adoption Month

After reading an article on National Adoption Month, I wrote the following poem. The author of the article blames adoption for her issues. I remember as a young child praying each night that either my ‘real’ mother appear as ‘the mother’ hated me so and couldn’t actually be my mother or that my father would find someone kind who would have us both. After my unanswered prayers, I would cry myself to sleep.

My steps took me to university where I majored in Psychology obtaining my Master’s Degree and as a single parent then began working at a private therapy clinic and with Child Protection.

I do acknowledge the woman’s pain. However, she appears to have other issues and is so focused on ‘being adopted’ she cannot put a foot forward. I’ve been the kid that should have been surrendered for adoption. I’ve also worked with both sides both as a private therapist and in Child Protection. I know how bad the system is and often the kids end up with relatives who are not far from the parent/s they were removed from and/or do not protect them from said parent/s. 
When I was about four, I began going to the next door neighbors home to help with her clients. Mrs. Jones was a speech therapist for the Crippled Children’s Society. There were often children sitting in her living room waiting to be seen or siblings that needed to be distracted while they waited. Helping with these children and being an early reader helped me to focus outside a situation that was out of my control.

The poem below is offered to all those parents who put the child first and to all those children adopted or not who are survivors of some of life’s harshest realities. This piece is also for those brave individuals who step forward and make a difference in the life of these children.  In the end, it is all about love. Some never have been on the receiving end and don’t have love to give. Some have love in abundance. My sincere wish that all would find peace. I know from personal experience that my peace came from learning, understanding and perhaps most of all, reaching out to others who were or are still in pain.

 

“Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother.” – Oprah Winfrey

*

The other side of the story

 

Yes! I’ve no doubt

How painful it must be

Finding out your mother

Didn’t want, didn’t keep

You

Always knowing that she

Didn’t want you

Couldn’t keep you

Left you to the care

Of others

Whoever they may be

Searching crowds

For genetic similarities

Are they a part of me?

Where do I belong?

That eternal search

For home, acceptance,

Unconditional love

 

From my earliest memories

I would pray that my “real”

Mother would find me

I must have been put

Here by mistake

Yet her proof – horrific

Caesarean scar – my crime

Fragmentizing for a girl of three

Prayers for my father to

Find someone else who

Would be kind to us both

Hatred by – the mother

The word ‘mother’ still

Makes me queasy

 

Target for her rage

Making sure bruises didn’t show

Sold off to the grandma’s

Boyfriend – deacon of the church

For him to scatter his holy seeds

And cleanse my wickedness

Father unable to defend him self

Becoming his defender

Deflecting her rage onto myself

Believing he wouldn’t survive

And I would be alone, yet

I was always on my own

Never a kind word, nor

Gentle touch

 

I tell my story not for pity

Now at last I’m free

If you were adopted

Perhaps that mother

You search for

Spared you from my fate

And others who suffered more

Knowing she was not able

Perhaps the choice was not hers?

If you were treated kindly

You’ve much to be grateful for

Try forgiving – we never forget

It is on the road to healing

Then reach out to

Those who still suffer

Taking the focus off ourselves

Catharsis for healing

*

Bisous,

Léa

No – only pity in the end

“…You don’t have to wait for someone to treat you bad repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once, if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.”   – Anonymous

 

“History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.”   – Maya Angelou

 

 

 

No – only pity in the end

The toaster doesn’t

Produce faster

Because you are in

A hurry

No

Turning up the

Volume of your

Diatribes will not

Improve the outcome

No

The bruises never showed

You took great care they wouldn’t

Head and back your targets

No, your story has

Carried you thus far

Has covered up the tracks

At least nobody asked

Questions

Curiosity – my fatal flaw

Truths you never uttered

No

A little girl

Was no match for your

Rage

And no one ever got that close

No

You didn’t win

I escaped – I survived

The cracks in your amour

Are widening but nobody cares

No

You continue to strike out – yet

I am out of reach

Regardless, I am free

Many scars won’t heal – but

I’ve chosen Joy

No

There is no hatred

That is your disease

The only feeling

I have for you

Pity

 

*

Bisous,

Léa

Material Witness

“Art is not a part of life, it is not an addition to life, it is the essence of those pieces of us that make us fulfilled. That give us hope. That give us dreams and provide the world a view very different than what it would have been without us.”

–  Hasan Davis

“Art opens the closets, airs out the cellars and attics. It brings healing.”   –  Julia Cameron

“I think artists can go to a level of vision that can often save us from a situation which seems to have no solution whatsoever.”   –  Susan Griffin

*

Material Witness

This is what I get

For attempting to reduce

The clutter in my life

This red plastic toolbox

Filled with long ignored

Pencils, charcoal, pastels

And other tricks of a trade

They were so foreign to

Me

Something I ached for

Yet knew nothing about

Flashbacks to childhood

A half-sisters art supplies

Tossed aside at the demands

Of her fiancée

Now these things

Were in plain site

Demanding attention

To be dealt with

To be used

To skate across paper

Or canvas

All the negative decrees of a

Lifetime want to be heard

Demand their say

Yet something deeper

Wants more

Dare I open the box?

Dare I see what will happen?

Learning to play

With art or anything else

Is more difficult as we age

But if it is given the smallest chance

It will prevail

The evidence is all around

Me

*

Bisous,

Léa