- to my forgotten soul -
Maybe I've let you down.
I've followed, blindfolded,
a path they've chosen.
Maybe I've denied you too long.
But now I know,
it wasn't my weakness,
but my strength,
that has made my past.
We're strong, we're patiënt.
One day we'll meet a soul,
that will touch us deeply.
Then we'll be home.
(nature area De Blauwe Kamer, the Netherlands)
In my dream, a dozen angels flew from the sky,
And stood with heavenly command right before my eyes.
One of them stepped forward and spoke;
When his voice reached my ears, I almost broke. ‘Last night, dreamer, you wished upon a star,
One that was exactly 12000 miles afar,
On it, rested Magnus, the Angel of Fear,
He heard your cries and sent us here.
As promised, mortal one, we have come to bless,
You are granted three wishes, no more, no less’. I stood astounded unable to speak,
Miracles have never happened to me.
I thought long and I thought hard,
Looked into a soul that’s been burned and scarred.
When I finally spoke, I was certain I knew,
The very first thing I wished for was you.
I wished for your love, till the sun starts to freeze,
I wished for your heart and I wished for its keys,
I wished you were mine and I wished I was yours,
I wished those windows to your eyes became doors.
I wished for love irrevocably and love undying,
I wished for love without strings and love without trying.
The angels before me started to smile,
To think of what was next took me a while.
My second wish is one I wished for every day,
I asked the angels to make the scars go away.
Scars on skin and scars on the heart inside,
Scars that wouldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried.
Scars born of pain and weakness,
Scars in all their desperate sweetness.
With that wish, the angels began to weep,
Tears of silent sympathy for the sorrow beneath.
The third wish was the hardest of them all,
I wished for a light blue Christmas shawl.
I remember every detail of the shawl you gave me,
Last December, the night before you left me.
It imprinted in my mind like fire on steel,
I remember thinking this is not how Christmas is supposed to feel.
The shawl that was the last of you and me,
That is my wish number three.
The angels looked sorrowful and with a heavy sigh,
They vanished in flakes and frost into the winter sky.
And then I finally woke up, I say to you,
When you smile at me, I realise at least one wish came true.
to become a better writer, you must become a better reader. the first course as an english major I ever took was founded on the above phrase, and it has resonated with me since. enjoying some classic poetry in the songs of solomon this morning. basking in its richness!
All over again 🌹 .
Taken from my book Maybe .
Thank you to everyone who has a copy of Maybe, I appreciate you all so much ❤️
Maybe is available internationally in paperback and kindle editions - link in bio
2 17719 hours ago
[C a p t i o n]
words spoken are a
lacklustre thing to you and me
we speak in a silence that
is the doorstep to heaven
we speak in a silence that
gives wings to our love
and life to every fiber
of our bodies.