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2023

It is now 2023. The leaves are still as are the branches of the trees above. The frost has given them an eerie sense of stillness. The sun has risen up though and would soon be thawing at their hearts and life will then be able to flow through them again. I look at them and wonder what the point of life really is, especially if all of us need a sun, which is hidden from view, however which can still come into our lives and give it nourishment. How to find that sun, the one which one could orbit around and get sustenance from; an impossible dream sometimes. The sound of him coughing ripped through the quiet night. It came once, was followed by another, its echo and then all went silent. I stirred once, opened my eyes and then as if in a trance, shut them again. It had been nothing, all was quiet. I lay listening to the sounds of the night though; the clock in the other room continued its periodic ramblings, tick-tock; a broken toy whirred in the dark somewhere before going silent again.
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Cloud

What to write or say, There is something which I need to say. They come and they go They still need a mother and so does their brother. He does not come over that much,  But he does still. They know, but do they care, no, they don’t; This is a really sad tradition Taking children away from mothers And letting ex husbands do so with the assistance of their friends and brothers. It is illegal to do so, I hear the parliament say, But do they turn around and help when you ask them to or do they say, No. Let them know that it is wrong but do they say it when you ask them to say so, No. What should I write today, the day is a bit cloudy It is going to rain again And cloud our judgements still.
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The Capacity to write

Its gone they say, the capacity to write.  I know but won’t say so not so much that they know that I know.  I wonder why I don’t want them to know, especially when I have said it all, to the police even. However, he makes them cry and then promise that they will not let anyone know that he has been cruel to them.  They cry and then they smile when I ask them and I know that they are afraid but won’t say anything against him. What should I do, I am really tired.  He uses them, sends them away on holidays, takes them to movies, He spends money like there is no tomorrow  And children like it so much that they get pleased but it is like a disease. I know not what I should write, I know though that it is Depressing to sometimes And the pain in the pit gets stronger and stronger And that which is there will not diminish or not linger. I see them sometimes and not too often anymore,  I wonder how many other mothers this happens to  And how many live without their children Who grow up as the s
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A Clean Slate

To write on a clean slate. But what should I say. To know not what the future holds. Is such a lovely trait. I lost the art of knowing the present. Was in 2009, I am sure. It was then that it all turned into a blur, or was it six years later when I realised that I had been taken for a ride. By none other than the one who I had permitted into my life. It was sad, to say the least. My children had grown up all oh so tall, and this mostly without me. They are even taller now and know that it is wrong to lie, but it has turned into a compulsion for them, although in the astral space they will not lie. Then they are being truthful when they say that they have been abused, and I have seen so many scars between 2016 and 2023 that I find it difficult to not believe. It is true and not a fabrication, the face tells all they say, or is it the mind which is difficult to control. The truth is out and no one knows or is it that everyone does but does not show. I think not, and just jot my thoughts
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Voices

A poem Voices come and go They stay not for too long  in my mind or another's; a fleeting thought makes me think whether it will be fine to know or to blink I think with the voice but it does not acknowledge me at times  and then I know that it is fine to not think
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The Pupil and the Master

“Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master,” Leonardo da Vinci I am a Seer, not as accomplished as my ex husband but a Seer still. I first met him in 1995.  I thought that he could be my Guru, my better and we got married in 1996. And so I became his follower but when he became angry and violent then I decided to start a new life and this away from him. This decision was made by me after 15 years of a marriage which was always on the rocks. And so in 2011, we decided to separate. We separated but he did something that still hurts and which was to take my three children away from me as well as most of my money. And so I had to become my own Guru and in 2015 became as good as him and a Guru myself. The pupil had now become the Master or the Guru?  Here I pay homage to Leonardo da Vinci who was not just a really good artist but also a scientist as well as a musician amongst other things. And this as it was the study of Meditation & Science which made me realise that we are all
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The Voice

I begin this note with a quote: “If you hear a voice within you say, “You cannot Paint,” then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced” - Vincent Van Gogh Vincent had a Mental Illness and which was that he could hear voices. I probably read this in the NGA or I could have also read it in my sister’s books when I was in year 11. A Voice once asked him to cut one of his ears off and he did. But he was an amazing artist as most know now and tried to keep the Voice that used to bully him at bay, especially, when he was painting. I, for one, started to paint and sculpt when I was in primary school and could probably draw before that too. I also started to sing, probably when I started to talk and this as my mother was a singer.  I have now been assessed with a Schizoaffective disorder and am being treated for Voices & visions that used to reveal distressing truths to me (!) and I am on medication. My three sons have been entrusted into the care of my ex husband and his famil
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