The Ghost in Me

The colors in my head are vibrant. I’m not quite sure how to replicate them on canvas or in words, but I want to interpret them through my soul. I find the vividness exhilarating. Brilliant hues, purple, blue and yellow. Greens are filling the skies with splashes like voices scattered through my heart; the light is shining. The inspired craving of excitement and longing but, also fulfillment. Once I find this key, this bit of time that I can perceive and project there will be a new meaning to my life. It’s like when you close your eyes and the shapes behind your lids move like a lava lamp, growing, and shrinking. Bright then gone to black to be replaced by something new. Yellow perhaps. The dance is impactful, and I hold it tightly to me knowing I will need to let it go. There is silence, and yet the music plays. There is sadness yet, I feel a growing joy. I can’t explain it at all, but I know somehow I need to share this gift, this internal maze that is the essence of who I am. The bright colors under the surface, the light pulsing in an effortless means to escape. The truth is there, within the walls of my mind, flowing down to my heart, to my stomach, to my toes. It runs like a river in and out, up and down. The blood pumping, racing yet still, with moments of contentment. Finally, I find it, slowly coursing, inviting me towards it. A ghost, reaching for me in fuchsia with purple edges gleaming. I know I cannot resist. I lie down, comforted, surrounded, and hovering within myself. I am finding love. The melody spins me. I’m dizzy with delight, calm. I am ready to grow, to break free to release the light, the colors, the gifts, to share them outwardly with the world. To know who I am and where I stand. It is in this release that I will find myself.

Little Moments

It is not our role in life to save those we love. It is our role to be there to support them when they are ready to rise up and save themselves.

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Artist: Bob Dilworth (painting segment) http://bobdilworth.com/

Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

The Wind

I am moved by the wind. How it recites to me in whimsy the colors of the sunset, the secrets of the trees. I often laugh as it shares the giddiness of its antics; toying with the birds pushing them back as they labor forward then toppling trash cans and blaming raccoons. There is so much to learn if one eavesdrops thoughtfully and observes her variance. It takes patience to understand her divergent ways and I embrace each distinction. It fuels me on a quiet day. It satisfies me when I am lost.

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Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

Life Poems 8

Buffie

She was beautiful! Her dark soulful eyes shared a tenderness that melted away any pain. Tears would be gone in seconds replaced by laughter and games of tag around the house; she was always it. We sat together at meals and often fell asleep side by side. There’s no denying she was my best friend. She’d been there since before memories took hold. Walking side by side, leaning in in that tender way friends do. I loved how warm she was, soft too. Her silky long hair would swish as she walked, the kaleidoscope of browns, whites and grays. She was old and yet full of life. But today she’s gone. Its my 8th birthday and time is quickly teaching me that pain comes with age. I’ve been lying here in the corner on her blanket by the closet, where she died in my arms, trying to hold on to her. I don’t want to celebrate today. The one wish I have is impossible.

©NicholeDonjè