Every day is the same:
I work on holding myself together.
I wrap my body in found things:
elastic bands, string, a pleasing melody, Band-Aids, a well written line of text, the occasional staple.
These have built up over time,
to form a cocoon or a chrysalis,
that surrounds me.
Some days are better than others,
and I am able to go through the day without a care,
the cocoon around me able to withstand
the soft breeze of life,
and the ebbs and flow of my emotions.
everything that I am trying to hold in
finds its way out
and becomes an inferno that rises in me despite my care of the flame.
It bursts past the barriers of string and elastic bands,
scattering them to the wind.
It destroys something in me,
the chalice that holds the whole of me,
so that pieces of glass are littered like diamonds
in amongst the string and staples
and the occasional line of text.
I work at picking the pieces of myself
off of the floor,
adding more band aids, random pieces of string and elastic bands as I go.
I also pick up each piece of diamond glass,
no bigger than a grain of sand,
and look into their depths.
I see pieces of myself that make up the whole:
the sound of my laugher, my eyes that widen when I laugh, my thirst to live, to experience all that life has to offer me.
My light burns so brightly
and my body is capable of music.
This is a crescendo
and every moment is but a note that I can make.
*Dedicated to our guide through Santiago de Cuba. An everyday angel.
in a restaurant
that was nestled
in the clouds.
I could see
a couple dancing,
moving as if
the very air
was filled with
apartments and dwellings
that rose up
high around us,
built on top
of one another.
I wondered if
those that lived
within those homes
knew that the
sky belonged to
sat and regarded
us with kind
eyes that had
seen so much.
The air around him
was filled with
the scents of vinegar,
spiced shrimp and
marinated chicken with
beans and rice.
The scents evoked
a mellowing of
my spirit and
soothed my turbulent
“The truth of it is that we find joy in our pain.”
Time had slowed
down when he
spoke, when he
shaped his words.
His voice was
melodic and each
rounded syllable was
like a musical
“When life rises up to meet us, we look at it and laugh.”
He smiles when
he says this.
I can see
the twinkle in
his dark eyes.
They are windows
to his soul
and they contain
“There are times when I want to give up.”
He took a
moment to think
of his words
and I could see
him choosing and
discarding words that
didn’t make any
“But I never give up, there is too much life to live, no?”
The group sits
and we all
sip our beer,
listening to the
sounds of people
below us and
the noise of
traffic and I
realise that what
we are hearing
is the sound
of life being
I often feel
as if my body
contains a storm at sea.
It rages inside of me, trying
to tear me limb from limb. I
can feel my skin being pulled taunt and
I am desperately trying to hold it together.
Sometimes, all I can hear is the noise and the fury
of the wind as the storm gets stronger, as the
waves crash against the rocks,
the birds scream overhead
as the wind becomes
As the boat rides
the raging storm, lightning
snaps across the sky as thunder rolls
throughout the clouds. I am inside that
boat, holding on to the edges, the oars taken
by the hungry waters. I sit in the boat, knowing that
my time has come, holding on to my skin which
desperately wants to just come apart, my
muscles screaming at me, angry and sore
beneath my fragile skin. I sit in the boat
and close my eyes, trying to hear the
storm as music, to hear it as
something beautiful as
opposed to the battle
that is happening
I close my
eyes and try to
hear the sounds around me,
that wild sea within that threatens
to consume me, as something beyond
the crash of waves and the screech of wind.
I try to hear the music within my body instead.
The crashes of the waves, the spasms that explode
within my body, those are the drums, keeping
the beat inside me. The screeching wind,
the flashes of pain that ride along my
skin, they are the flutes that keep
try to match the beat of my
heart. The crash of the
waves against the
rocks, that is
into me, much like the
cymbals that slam into every
song, punctuating every movement,
every crescendo. The numbness and the
tingling that runs throughout my body, that
is the guitar, playing a sweet melody that holds
everything together, that unites everything into a cohesive
tune. As I listen to that storm symphony, I feel the
waters start slow their rocking, the winds begin
to slow down, the cymbals crashing together
less and less. Soon, I can only hear my heart
beat which was the voice of the song,
the eternal beat within me that
is the beat of everything,
that had been trying to
find its voice the
as my heart
sings me a
song. As I
sit in the
was the wild
pain that has
I received a lovely surprise today! My books are available in the Ottawa Public Library!
I’ve always dreamed of having my books available in a library and knowing that it has finally happened is beyond awesome.
Isn’t this wonderful? You can check out the books from the Nepean Centrepointe Library and, even cooler, you can reserve the books in any library in Ottawa!
Check them out here:
Today, libraries! Tomorrow book stores!
Trick or treat!
My new book, Witchcraft and Anchovies, is available now from Wolf Flow Press! How awesome is that? It’s a spooky, magical tale about past lives, family history and the ties that bind that is just perfect for Halloween!
Here’s a bit about the book:
Carolotta is a woman with two lives: Pizza delivery call girl by day, Witch by night.
An obsessive-compulsive agoraphobic, she has not left her apartment building in more than ten years. She tries to be normal, but she is far from it. Though she tries to deny the darker side of herself, her heritage will not let her forget.
When one of her clients seeking magical help with a romance gives her a journal, Carlotta begins to write.
When what she writes begins to come to life, she knows that she has no hope of being normal if she is to save herself.
Carlotta begins travelling to a strange but familiar world inside of her dreams. There she meets her dead grandmother who tells her that she is being hunted by the man who killed her.
Though Carlotta has tried to deny her magic and her heritage, she knows that she must embrace it if she has a chance at survival. She knows as well that she must rely on the help of others, something she has never let herself do.
She receives help from four different people: Michael, a young woman with magic inside of her. Rhonda Jean, a redneck, white trash, fast talking woman with a beehive hairdo. Joe Swanson, a seventeen-year-old who has a fascination with magic. And Paulo, her grocery delivery man, who delivers her groceries and holds her heart.
When they are all threatened by magic they do not understand, Carlotta knows that she must find the strength and the magic inside of her if they are all to stay alive…
You can get the ebook here: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07JL6G5CY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1540089192&sr=8-1&keywords=Witchcraft+and+Anchovies
The paperback is coming soon! I truly hope you enjoy it!
Happy Halloween Everyone!