From Her to Me

I’m a woman – I’m neither fragile nor pretty; I don’t like gloss nor glitter – no I don’t bear pain and flaunt.

I struggle being chirpy / bubbly / pleasant / innocent. And no, diamonds or ‘more’ clothes are not my best friends. I’m neither trendy nor extravagant.

I’m not always honest and scream in fright at night. I’m wobbly & insecure. I can’t recall any of my virtues and a vice or two are tough to hide. I shout. I fight. I manipulate. I’m occasionally rude, often big headed. I’m condescending, have a tongue in cheek sense of humour and often taunt.

If my soul had a colour board, it’ll be greys & blacks with some speckles of gold.

I draw from the feminine energy all through my aware being; all eccentricity, yes! The lousy is all me… the beauty is all borrowed.

The friendship in the mother, the sisterhood in the friend, the friendship in the sister, the opponent in the team, the colleague in competition.

I had it all and then today I saw a shadow. She is anchored. A vague face, she’s my pneuma. Ageless, like a mother looms large. Like a daughter gives essence. Like a granny, promises purpose. Fun, like a buddy becomes a canopy. She’s the closest I could come to mothering. A daze, she doesn’t seem but sure feels real. A presence that’s emerged from me, but is distinct. Sunshine with a dash of hail.

“Blooming from my core, mushrooming beyond and enveloping me.
A companion as permanent as the earth.
Perpetually, eternally together, easing my quiver; reviving me.”
“I’m ready now”, she said. “Come, Tomorrow”

Image credits: herpaperweight.tumblr.com
modernhepburn.tumblr.com