This poem is for Meaghan, who is a Star. 🙂

 

There is a

light that comes

from within you.

At first, I was

blinded by it,

I would look

upon you and

see only stars.

Every time you

moved, it was

like you were

conducting the Milky

Way, a thousand

stars would trail

after your fingertips.

As I got

to know you,

the stars that

made up your

light gained a

brilliance matched only

by comets as

the shine across

the sky, the

light within you

growing beyond what

the eye could

see. I would

watch as you

helped others, filling

up their life

with light. Each

time you did,

I could see

stars lingering on

their skin, stars

that would glow

with a soft,

comforting light. Soon,

the world around

you was filled

with people that

shone because of

you, whose lives

were brighter because

you were in

it. Then came

a time where

the stars that

came from you

darkened, the shine

was dulled and

the air around

you filled with

shadow. To help

you through this

shadowland, I held

out my hand

to you and

gave you some

of my light

so that you

would find your

way back to

yourself. At the

edge of the

barrier between light

and dark, I

say to you:

Never forget that

you are a

being of light,

a person of

such beauty, both

internal and external.

Never doubt for

an instant who

you are and

what you are

capable of. You

hold the world

in your hands.

Shine your light

and leave the

shadowland behind. The

world is more

beautiful because of

you.

 

“You gotta be careful when you take that mask off.”

She said.

I looked at

her and the

shadows that emanated

off of her.

I knew she

was going through

a dark time,

that she felt

the loss of

her husband as

if it were yesterday.

“What do you mean?”

I asked.

She gave me

a sage look

and said:

“People wear masks all the time. You never truly know anyone. You only know what they show you.”

I thought of

what I chose

to show the

world, what I

chose to let

others see. As

I thought about

this, I reached

up to touch

my face, to

see if I

could feel any

masks there. I

didn’t feel any

ridges or markings

that would denote

a mask. I

wondered if I

lived without one.

Later, while walking

on the sand,

the ocean filling

the air with

its music, I

looked at the

man I loved so

deeply. I could

see no mask

there. Even so,

I reached up

and touched his

face and felt

a ridge there.

I slowly pulled

the mask away

only to see

his face just

as I knew

it. He reached

up and pulled

away the mask

I wore, too.

“Do I look different?”

He shook his

head and said:

“You look just as you always do to me. Beautiful.”

It occurred to

me that maybe

there were people

we were comfortable

enough to just

be ourselves completely,

and what a

marvelous gift we

had given each other.

I took his hand

and we walked

on, letting the

masks fall away

to the sand.

This poem is for my Wonder Mom for her Birthday. Love you Wonder Mom!

 

When I think of you,

I am reminded of stars,

Stars hold magic within them,

and that magic takes form

in light, shining down

upon us from light years away.

You have always been capable

of great magic, able to mend wounds,

heal hearts or grant wishes.

Stars are wise beyond their years,

they have been helping those

that wish for wisdom

learn secrets from the skies,

teaching those that want

to learn more about the world

that surrounds them.

Stars help guide others to safety,

having guided sailors and creatures

that live within the water

to their destination on calmer seas,

and they provide light

in the darkest of times,

helping us not to feel so alone.

Though Stars are far away from us,

they remind us that

we are not alone,

that all we have to do

is look up into the sky

to be close to them,

to be reminded of their light.

You are all of this

and more, a true being

of magic and light.

As you continue to shine forth

and shine on, it is an honour

and a privilege to be graced

by your light and your love.

I can only hope to shine

as brightly as you do

so that we can fly across the sky

together.

 

The world was

falling

around me. I

tried to take

a step, but

the floor rose

up

to meet me,

as if it

wanted to give

me an embrace.

I knew that

something was wrong,

that my body

was not my

own anymore.

I waited months

for a diagnosis,

longing to know

the name of

the beast that

now resided within

me, while at

the same time

dreading the outcome.

What shadow lay

within me? And

more importantly, could

I accept it

once it had

a human name?

While I waited,

I fell again

and again, my

body rebelling against

what I wanted

it to do.

When I did

finally get an

answer, the symptom

was like a

voice in the

wind, there but

fleeting. There, but

like gossamer within

my grasp. As

I tried to

relearn what my

body was and

what I house

inside my skin,

I took steps

towards getting better.

I started on

the inside, focusing

on the Spirit

and then the

heart. Only then

would I be

strong enough to

tackle the biggest

obstacle: my body.

I found solace

in Reiki, found

guidance in Tarot

cards, found comfort

in Manifestation, in

choosing my own

path. I was

still falling, still

letting the ground

rise up to

meet me, its

concrete embrace somehow

comforting because it

was something familiar

now. However, each

time I got

up, each time

I pulled my

body upright and

brushed off the

dust left behind

from my concrete

embrace, I was

stronger. Each time

I got back

up and refused

to stay down,

I found a

little bit more

of myself. I

could see the

pieces of the

chalice that had

been within me

littering the street

like diamonds, glittering

in the half

sunlight of mid-day.

I gathered each

one as I

found them, following

their luminescence towards

the future. Each

time I took

one in my

grasp, it lay

in my hand

for a moment,

but would then

sink into my

skin. I could

feel the chalice

rebuilding itself within

me, the shards

and pieces fusing

together. As each

piece found its

mate, the light

within me grew

stronger. I wasn’t

just falling. I

was falling to

find myself, the pieces

of me that

I had lost.

With each piece,

I took back

more of myself,

regained the pieces

of me that

I had thought

to be lost.

Each time I

stood up again,

I wasn’t merely

regaining my footing.

More than that,

I was reclaiming

myself, I was

rising

for a new

day, for a

new dawn, for

a new me.

Every time I

got back up,

I was telling

myself that the

disease wouldn’t win,

and that was

enough.