when we were little
we kissed
then spat on the ground
where a seed was buried
hoped a tree would grow

when we were parents
we spat venom at each other
hoped our children
would grow unaffected

when we were old
we spat the dummy at our children
hoped they didn’t notice

we have been toddlers in nappies
all through our life
hoped no one would ever
point a finger at us
the terrible twos


she fell in love with
the same type of men
over promised
under delivered

they promised forever
but half way
they gave in to

she fell in love with
the same type of men
not once
not twice
but trice

she can’t help to think
what is wrong with her
is she
so blind
so dull
so inconceivable

chose to see
the good in people
is not a ticket
for abuse
the simple things
in life
surely is not

How I came to be

I remember
they said I was a misfit child
I remember
they said I was a depressed teenager
I remember
they said I wasn’t beautiful
I remember
they said I was a people pleaser
I remember
what they said did not break me

I know
I am a unique creation
I know
I feel the weight of life and people
I know
I believe wisdom is beautiful
I know
I am quick to forgive
I know
What they said has made me whole

Life’s highs and lows

an empty plastic bag
danced in the wind
Fouetté, Grand Jeté, Plié
took a bow

blown away

hung on the tip of a mast
sailed towards sunset horizon
with a distended belly

rolled away

whiplashed by ocean waves
deflated under the
anaemic moon

drifted off

afterglow art backlit birds
Photo by luizclas on

The valley of dry bones

dissolved skin
rotten flesh
we thought
there was no life
in dry bones
from the valley
of death

when the breath of life
entered them
tendons were attached
flesh came upon them
covered them with skin
they came to lives

for there was compassion
and belief of a
Sovereign Maker
of All


she is used to eating dinner alone
with Netflix on her laptop playing
she is not sure about
sharing a couch and dinner
interacting with each other

she is used to taking a bath
in the company of candle lights
and a glass of wine
she is not sure about
having another to
refill her glass
trim the candle wicks and
sit quietly to watch her
with desire simmering

change is a good thing
if there is
harmony in being together
and passion for one another


grieving is a process

I wish
it was a project
with limited scopes
budgeted emotional investment
realistic deliverables
mitigable mental health risk
achievable in a foreseeable future

grieving is being powerless
of letting go
of the loss