Boston is but one of many

A little girl, 8 years old

“ Grandpa, why are there bad people in the world ? “

There is no why, only hope

and prayer

The blank of intolerance,

That smearing blur of hate,

blinding anger

Are all these melded into one big ball of confusion

Until your cause can only be justified through tears and blood ?

Does peace and quiet heighten the thunders in your head ?

Can your voice only be heard through explosions and broken lives ?

Does this calamity of senseless loss

Shed more sense in the roar of your mindless lashings ?

and does it heal your wound to cut another ?

Is your walk less lonely

When a crowd falls with you ?

Does it give you sight to blind another ?

That ticking bomb in your hand, does it match the race of your discontent ?

Does it make you feel powerful to hold

powerless lives at your temporary mercy ?

Can you exchange your pain

for the bleeding heart of a parent’s loss ?

Question after question after question

Hurt upon hurt

Contagious confusion

But only one thing rings clear

The answers are not in clenched fists

and bitter vengeance

because retribution does not decode the answer

A little girl, 8 years old

Broken dreams and shattered breaths

a future prematurely robbed and erased

There is no why, only hope

and prayer

*pic credits*

Here's my heart

Here’s my heart

A system of valves, opening, closing,

This synchronized clockwork of inhale and exhale,

Here,

Oxygen and carbon dioxide embrace life,

A brief encounter,

An imperceptible give and take

Only to forever part and go separate ways

Wander down the halls of my heart

And You’ll find weaved into a tapestry of veins,

Resentment, anger, and impatience conferring in the passageway

"Someone said something today"

An angry word, and vengeance rears it’s ugly head

A quickening of beats, a rush of blood to the brain,

Doubt drowns fading faith and

Fear cowers shamefully in a darkened corner

But a heart led by pride often trips on itself,

Only to be left broken and bleeding

And when it stubbornly snuggles into blankets of its own wounds

Contentment teaches it how to never heal

This is a heart that is weak,

Imperfect despite Your perfect orchestration of opening and closing valves.

Here’s my heart,

Gently remove my tightly held grip on the reins

And teach it to trust

With faith like young David’s

One that giants, doubts and fears can never sway

Teach it to beat for you

Move each breath to love like Jesus

Eyes that see the poor and suffering

And as this heart acknowledges that pain is universal

Soften it as it feels their pain too.

Lord, breathe into it

So each impatient heartbeat

Feeds instead the river of Your peace

Between the knowledge that there are wars worth fighting

And squabbles that need only the hand of Time to cure,

Grant this heart Solomon’s wisdom to tell the difference

And when You finally knock on its door

Grant my heart the wisdom

To answer

Above all else, guard your heart ; 

For everything you do flows from it 

- Proverbs 4 : 23

Hope restarts

This is the story of a girl who loved and lost

A girl who started out with a feeble heartbeat

and right before they thought all was lost

A pulsing ultrasound and in three insistent beats :

“I’m. Still. Here”

A girl who was taught at the lap of her earliest teachers

That it takes strength to say “I’m sorry”

Learnt through life that it takes humility to say “Please”

and that gratitude, extends further than the last “Thank You”.

A girl who decided not to judge through coloured lenses,

Not realizing that the world

was already too busy painting her shades

that didn’t quite match the colour of her soul

And with eyes wide shut, and heart laid open,

Friendship, was the wine with the best bouquet,

the most delicate of flowers and

the sweetest of fruits

Betrayal may have opened those shut eyes;

shut the open heart

filled the days with the roaring thunder of hurt and confusion

But this is the girl with the feeble heartbeat,

In three insistent beats :

“ Hope. Restarts"

This is the story of a girl who loved and lost

But loved again

*pic credits*

Blindness

Blindness, 

is not the loss of physical sight, 

It is not the inability for your eyes to absorb 

and process colours and images

Blindness, 

is the inability to let go

even when holding on leaves scars on the very palms that grip

Blindness, 

is the inability to absorb thoughts, 

to see that it has to take white to make a sea of grey,

and that even in the right light, 

the black glitters 

Blindness, 

is the rash tongue, 

the unforgiving heart 

and the vengeful spirit

Blindness, 

is the stubborn soul

that refuses to be vulnerable, pliant, human

Blindness, 

is the inability to see that by not forgiving

and by building a cage for every hurt, pain and injustice, 

you invest so much of yourself 

until every curve, every bar, every sinewy joint of that unyielding prison,

becomes you. 

The eyes and the soul

I have a story to tell, her eyes beseeched.

Fragile emerald veins, the evidence of the years cobwebbing across pale, white skin. A faint pulse ticks the passing seconds, each one a reminder of the memories lived with each inhale and exhale of breath.

Her hands are still elegant, with only a faded wedding band on her slim tapered fingers. These hands held his in a sunlit meadow, put the ring on her husband’s on their wedding day, and cradled her children, soothed cuts, bruises and combed back unruly curls.

Lips that were once rosy and full, now a shadow of whispered love, of bedtime stories and kisses that cured scraped knees and wise words that balmed broken hearts. Sometimes, they remember her, always armed with a winsome smile and a razor sharp retort for low esteem days, kind words for dark days, and a joke for days when even the clouds seem heavier and burdened.

But it is her eyes that do the speaking. These cool calm pools belying the feisty outspoken girl, the willful teenager, and the courageous woman. It is her eyes that are arresting, hooked up on tubes and often alone, her eyes blaze with the life that refuses to be tamed down simply because time lost the tag team race with age.

I have a story to tell, her eyes beseeched.

*** How often we forget the elderly and the wonderful lives they've led. How often we forsake to see that we're but a bud grafted onto the trees nurtured by the ones who lived and saw these things way before we ever did *** 

A Study in Character and Emotion

Meet Anger. Anger has this knack for choosing victims to approach. In a weak moment, he snickers and says 

“ Go ahead. Lash out. It’ll do you good. It feels GOOD doesn’t it ? They hurt you, they annoyed you, you deserve to feel this simmering heat and burn. Hey look, there’s a rock, take it and throw it at this and that person”.  

He nudges Hurt, so Hurt wails and stamps her feet : 

“ Focus on me. It’s really all about me. Look how I’m bleeding. Really, life has been so cruel “. 

Resentment looks on, resolutely stewing in a corner and suddenly Rashness comes sprinting in, a bat in hand screaming 

“ Do it ! Do the damage and be done with it ! “. 

Immaturity comes sauntering in, nodding a vehement encouragement, goading you on 

“ Come on … why don’t you listen ? You're not half the (wo)man I thought you were ! We know what’s best for you. Follow your heart “

You take a step in their direction, Determination cringes in a distance, but suddenly Wisdom lays a gentle firm hand on your shoulder and whispers, listen to Patience. Thankfully, Optimism comes in, and Strength takes your arm, encouraging you to walk away with Courage, and you’ll find that Peace waits a little further on, away from Chaos. 

Pic credits

*** Very often, we find ourselves in situations led by anger, and in a surge of emotion, we react according to the first thing that comes to mind. But like the flip side of a coin, there's always always an alternative reaction, the one that sits away from it all, the one that marks the difference between maturity, and juuuussst getting there. 

Au revoir et bonjour

Dear 2012,

In what seems like the blink of an eye, you're finally coming to a close, and whilst it's been a good year, it's also been a year rife with low dips and high peaks. 

There's been a lot to commemorate this year. As the days weaved in and out, friendships were made and lost, love was found and reinforced, and we grew, oh how we all grew. Through the heartaches interspersed with the little successes, I'm no longer the girl I was at the start of the year. When all's been said and done, there are two important attitudes to have towards life. Gratitude and acceptance. So yes, I'm immensely grateful for all the wonderful, and I'm gradually learning to accept the things that I have no power to change. 

Since we've gotten all sappy and reflective, here are a few snapshots of 2012 

I said yes !!! *deep breaths* ( September 2012 )

Gave my room a facelift 

Splurged on books at a book fair ( this stack grew, but I'm too ashamed to show the full collection *gulps*.. ) 

Got an award 

Christmas 2012  ( my first away from family, but great company salved the homesickness )

In it all, thank you for the many sunsets, many bright mornings and many starlit nights. Cheers, and may 2013 bring about new discoveries, memories and experiences !

xoxo, 

Jo 

I'm falling for your eyes, they don't know me yet

A crowded street, a cacophony of sounds, sights and smells, and then I saw you. In that one instant, the world stood still, the air bristled with tension and the street tilted, pushing a part of my heart in your direction.

Perhaps it was the shifting shadows, or that one instant flash of recognition, but I looked away, just as you turned around. That look in your eyes before it skittered away .. I wondered what a day in your life looked like. Did you have someone at home waiting for you ? Did you kiss her in the morning before you left the house ? Will you be cooking dinner together, sipping a glass of wine while you trade the details of the day ? Do you plan of distant futures, do you laugh at the same jokes, do you vocalize the secrets she buries in her heart, do you ? 

Because stranger, I'm falling for your eyes, they just don't know me yet.

***

This is the first in a series of something I've been wanting to do for a while now. Take a sentence of a song and weave a story. I'll be doing this more often. Stay tuned.

*Disclaimer : Some of the stuff posted here are mere works of fiction. Sometimes an inspiration becomes concrete in a fictitious story. Sometimes fictitious reasonings become reality. Who's to say for sure ? *wink*

Tell me

How many shoves will it take to make me realize I'm not a puppy. One day I'll get up and never return. But with each tear I'm angry. Angry that I'm leaving behind that part of me. That strong side that will no doubt scream " Nobody is worth your tears unless they're dead ". Perhaps I'm mourning the death of us. 

I remember when I showed you my first milk teeth, you told me " You'll have a pretty smile. Promise me you'll marry a man who will treat you right ". I wish you were around now. I wish you were here to listen. Writing this through the haze of tears, I need to know. What would you have said ?