I think
that, to anyone who’s been through the darkness, these poems speak for
themselves…
The
darkness is real. It’s tangible, it hurts and it can destroy. Knowing that
these times can lead to a greater appreciation of the other times – knowing
that they can make us better, stronger, more radiant – doesn’t necessarily make
a scrap of difference when the darkness descends. In fact, everything we once
knew has a habit of disappearing into that darkness and being swallowed whole…
But
when even the slightest glimmer, the tiniest pinprick of light, penetrates the
pitch that sticks to our soul and stops our eyes, when the stars begin to come
out, it’s sometimes possible to catch a glimpse of this:
We need the night to
see the stars and, whilst being smashed to shards again and again hurts like
crazy, every time, the shards reflect more bright and every crack lets in - and
out - more light.
Shards (1)
Whilst
journeying along the path of dreams,
or flying
high on Summer’s gentle breath,
I’ve
sometimes, frequently, it often seems,
been flung
to Earth with all the force of Death,
My spirit
torn to tattered, bloody strings,
reflected in
the shards of broken soul
that lie
around me, glinting, dangerous things,
each one an
echo of a shining whole
And every
time, I gather to my heart
the pieces
that are every part of me
and step
once more into another Start,
another
path, another flying free
and every
time, the shards reflect more bright
and every
crack lets in - and out - more light.
~
Shards (2)
Sometimes,
so to reach the rainbowed core,
the pulsing
heart where life is at its best,
the rest
must first be flayed and opened, raw,
the naked treasure
flowing from its chest.
And so with
shards of my own soul, I cleave,
and paring
bone from marrow, mind from thought,
undress
myself and then, ethereal, leave
to journey
to the place where life is wrought
And gather,
as I go along my way,
new flesh, new
thoughts, new ways of being me,
new music in
my ears, new games to play,
new ways to
fly, new freedom just to be
and all the
pain of paring, still I bear
and know
that when I feel it, life is there.
Ruth Calder Murphy is a writer, artist, music teacher, wife and mother living in London, UK. Her life is wonderfully full of creativity and low-level chaos. She is the author of one published novel, “The Scream,” several books of poetry and one or two as-yet unpublished novels. She is passionate about celebrating the uniqueness of people, questioning the unquestionable and discovering new perspectives on old wonders. She is learning to ride the waves that come along—peaks and troughs—and is waking up to just how wonderful life really is. You can visit Ruth and view more of her art on her website here, or on her Facebook page. Her latest book is available on Amazon here, and here.
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~
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