The Night

Stay out of my shoes

For I will stumble

Through the pocketful of gems

That only grow in the

Darkness

INSPIRED BY LAURA LAWSON

On the 20th of August 2010 I posted my first entry on this blog

Its time to give in and let the journey begin.

May I firstly be inspired beyond my minds belief and the inspiration guide my spirit to

BE AND BELIEVE!

There are two key things here GIVE IN and BE AND BELIEVE.  I think (perhaps at times over think) the world.  I am not always convincing in my thoughts and probably at times present myself as less intuitive than in fact I am.  The reason I began this blog was to discover myself through my words and USE the words to speak through the darkness of living with Retinitis Pigmentosa.

A year ago I began the search for other young visually impaired artists, particularly writers to follow and be inspired by and I began following a gifted young woman, Laura Lawson, on Facebook and reading her blog Believing is Seeing.  This was the first blog that I found, ironically I soon discovered Laura too lives her life with RP, she is a gifted artist and was presented with the loss of sight as I was at an age where her life was full and the dreams were budding, the heart was alive and then BANG the"gift" of RP fell in her lap.  Today, on my train journey home from work I read an article that Laura wrote for Motif Magazine, which has cemented me in a place I have never been before.  I have had moments throughout my life where I have known that where I am is right, but after reading this article I felt a sense of self that sits in my heart.

The article is titled Believing is Seeing(page 29) http://motifmag.com/index.html

I want to highlight the word gift because I think that there is a curse of losing your sight when you paint, write, create anything through sight, where you heavily rely on visual cues to provide inspiration, direction and creation and to be faced with losing the key to the creation means you are losing your dream, your purpose,YOU.  However, once working through the grief the realisation is that the loss is also the gain, the gift.  This is because you are forced to open your heart, your mind and your soul to a world that would not have been experienced without the loss.  I personally draw most of my inspiration through what I don't see visually but what I see through my spirit and from this I write.  What I write I admit is not always uplifting and mostly about loss, but for me this is part of the acceptance of the gradual loss of sight.

Yesterday I was trying to work out how I can convince my world how much I have gained through the journey of loss.  I realise its not something I can convince anyone of, its something felt or experienced. For ME I find little joy in struggling visually, but I hope I do make it to a safe place where I can accept that I am NOT just my eyesight.  Where I am at now is still in a mixed up churning river, caught in the current and am trying to swim to the shore of safety.......in the mean time it is the observations and poetry and hundreds of photos of fading sunlight skies and breaking dawns that will help me to float.

Earlier this week I was told "tell a story" and you know what THIS is my story, the shades of light and dark, the shadows, the fear of loss and being left alone and deserted.

a story

tell a story

feel the words

the fumbling

know the sunshine

wear it like the dress

with the pink button

you know that dress

folded into the yellow

and orange pleats

is the child

who danced

and glided in the air

holding out little hands

she still cups her hands

towards the sky

given away dreams

as the stars fall

from the neatly draped

night

buring the child in the soul

the rich earth

which feeds the presence

the child never forgets

her heart remains nestled

beside the longing spirit

her love endless

even when the darkness falls

she will remain

THE MORNING TRAIN

The last few days I have been writing a series of different poems, that funnily enough have somehow become connected in some way, they are three separate poems, yet they are one.....my dreams have been vivid and  they have traveled in my thoughts this week

Dawn amongst the

Silent breeze

Broken light

Decorates the blank pages

Colouring the unspoken

Words

Clawing at

Denied thoughts

The heart listening

As silent patience

Stays trapped in a knowing

Place

The asking heart

Sheds its sadness

Sitting lonely

Stitched up from isolated

Pieces of thread woven

Amongst the

                      

              flesh

6:34 the dream felt

Screeching sounds

Like rusty gates

Low hung clouds

Under my foot

As spicy salami lingers

Amongst the sleepers

And the grease shines

On her chin

 Nauseating my heart

My words true

Street lights

Train lights

The light in your heart

Turn off

Archways twitch

Music is played

Held tightly

In a coffee mug

Green flowery dreams

Warm the hands

One more chance

At happiness

His tie of blue

Watching

My love is yours

Caught in the nightmare

Oriental lions protect the

Entrance

Morning light broken

By a thumping soul

The rush of looking for

                        Love

That treks the hills

Looking for comfort

As her cracked lips

Call for the sky to come

Toward you.

Bending on the turn

Slowly pulling away

The book I carry

Bent from the hungry desire

Of being held

Hurts in my hands

Lost amongst searching

Following the ribbon

Draped from the window

The memories wait

Amongst the pages

Of cool water

And sweet lingering perfume

Surrounding the weightless

Stones that sink

As the floatless heart

Is embroidered

With silky wet moss

Seeking approval

That can't be controlled