Searching for God

What is God? Well rather than trying to grapple with that question, let’s start with what is a relationship with God? I mean, from what I understand, he gets me, knows how I work and knows how to communicate with me, but how do I reciprocate all of this?

The question of God I am pretty comfortable with. I know that it was not pure whimsy and luck created, well everything that surrounds me, including my body. It's no coincidence that human were created and are fantastical, amazingly complex creations, the extent of which we do not understand ourselves - either on a collective level and , much less on a personal one.

It is no coincidence that where this fantastical creature has life it has all the trimmings to make that life possible – The Earth; a complex combination of elemental gases of exact and correct proportions that enable us to breathe; the seemingly effortless competition of forces that enable us to stand fixed to the ground yet allow our planet to spin on itself and make elliptical travel that enable not only light and day but the passing of time and years.

And oxygen. One can only marvel at the pure ingenuity of oxygen. Without we cannot have life; but with each breath, oxygen is our mortality. It causes age and the decomposition of cells yet we need it to live. We may die of a multitude of factors, many environmental and of our own making. But oxygen - like God I guess, is the beginning and the end. Also, if you increased the levels of oxygen in the atmosphere and struck a match we would be obliterated - also in the image of God's power - but that is another topic completely, and in the grand scheme of it all, really misses the point.

So - what is a relationship with God? My relationship with is always going to be different I would suppose and coming into my late twenties, it seems odd to be asking these questions now. But like I said to my father only on the weekend, when we had all taken a few mouthfuls of food before I realised that we had not said grace, "It is never too late".

I'd like to say that I am extremely different and that this is why my connection with God, well mostly his Son, which is him at the same time... (you can see I am still somewhat confused how it all works and that I am comfortable and uncomfortable with him all at the same time) the truth is that I am no different from anyone else in that we all face challenges both physical, theological and emotional on this journey. What makes me different is my story.

I am the child of mixed cultural and religious background, both parents of which have lost faith in organised religion however remain true to the spiritual nature of this life. My mother is a Catholic and my father a Methodist. With their secured faith in something greater and disenchantment with "religion" I was baptised at the Wayside Chapel in King Cross, Sydney, and home of the Late, great and honourable Ted Knofts as a “Child of all religions.”

By way of background, the Wayside Chapel and the love of "Father Ted" was an issue of public divide when his church became the first church used as a "shoot up chapel" - a meth clinic or sort I believe for rehabilitating drug users. Ted had a lot of love and there was a lot of need, especially in King Cross, so these merged in Ted’s efforts to save lost souls. So this was the birth place of my religious journey - I guess as unique as I am. On reflection on my character, my mother, father and God knew better than to force God upon me when I would be better finding it all out for myself.

In primary school, we had religious education which went for approximately 1 hour once a week. I don't believe that you had to go but it was better than spending an hour by yourself. And being the inquisitive and somewhat bold (Bold by name, bold by nature) little creature that I am, I had some questions that had puzzled me in the whole Creation tale and thought this was the best place to have these answered. WRONG. So very, very wrong I was.

I was 5, maybe 6 years old when I attended a Combined Christian class which was run but an old woman whom I liken to the flying nun without the hat and not nearly as fun. She was telling us about God and the creation of the world and I had a few questions. The last question I came to ask, without malice of the intent to start an uprising of all the 5 year olds in the room against religious education was "So if God made everything, who made God?" I thought this was a valid question considering the magnitude of everything that I was trying to digested.

Instead the unfun flying nun flew into a fevered yet controlled rage where she cried "You insolent child! Go outside!" So sitting outside, swinging my little legs beneath the bench as they weren't even long enough to touch the ground, I remember thinking "This sucks, I am not going back to that anytime soon" and waited for the bell to ring to release my from my punishment go back into my classroom.

Next religious education lesson, I went to the Catholic class for reasons I would assume as obvious. And I loved it there. We would colour in and play games and if there were stories about Jesus and God, which I am sure there were, I don't really remember them being told. We were certainly never sat down, told to pay strict attention while verses of the Bible were read. And maybe this was because, with all of my 5 years of age and boldness, I addressed my Catholic teacher when I first arrived and stated that I am not anything, I am not a catholic, I am here to find out more information. In turn she showed me a calm and gentle passage through the beginning of my religious investigations with firm respect. I remember that she would say at the end of every class "goodbye my little Catholics, except for Tahnee who isn't sure yet" with a big warm smile. She was probably one of the best introductions to God I have probably encountered now I think about it.

But Catholicism was never to stick, as my mother had fierce suspicion and distrust for Catholics, despite being one. She had some terrible experiences during her youth and lost faith in the church. I too developed mistrust for religions built on the foundations of Christ as I grew older, especially considering the atrocities that had been done in his name. Also, baptised in as a child of all religions, I felt it was birth right and destiny to seek out all different religions rather confirm to belief that seemed stifling and contrived because it was the dominant faith of my peers.

So I had forays in a world of different religions - Paganism, Buddhism, Hinduism, the greater teachings of Yoga and the like. I read some of the Bile and a tiny section of the Koran, but in reading these texts I had fairly fierce prejudice, but I guess a young mind influenced popular culture can do that. I always found something, but never something complete. I was happy to take what I could piece by piece and form a sort of collective personal ideology. But in saying this, I also when through a significant period of self loathing and harm for which there was little light at the time to see any truth.

And over time, and over adversity and through a number of profound parables that were secular in design so not as to alert my inner workings to the writer’s possible desire to “convert me to their religion.” I grew. A lot.

When I grew the most was when everything I knew was taken away from when. I felt like I had been stripped down to my bones and everything that I had known, taken comfort in and had been the spectacles in which I viewed my future was torn from me in an instant. I mourned, I hallowed with grief for an answer, I fought, I sedated myself, and I punished myself, I tried everything. With the love of my parents and their firm but guiding hands, I made it through.

In the first stage of recovery when immense and searing pain had past and the desolate numbness of self had faded, I knew that God had taken all these things from me because they were killing me. Everything last thing that I had lost was killing my spirit, the dreams, ambition, self worth, everything, and yet I was unrelenting in my commitment to it. After 5 years, God said “No” and in dramatic fashion cast me down to the pits of despair so that the real making of Tahnee could begin.

Of course, the years that followed were a battle and I fought through to achieve the dreams that I had wanted. Of course, I faltered and slipped back into easy but destructive behaviours because I was sick of the road being so hard. I continue to keep pushing on and I enjoy a plentiful and bountiful life full of love. But like everyone else, I still get sometimes get sick of the endless challenges to be faced and forget to see the beauty. The beauty of the world; the beauty that I am lucky to have in my life; and the humility to accept with honour that I am faced with these challenges because it is believed that I have the ability to overcome each and every one.

After a long journey down many varied and often conflicting paths I know that my calling is love. Again, love by name and love by nature. I feel the best when I am giving love. I don't really feel anything I guess, kind of warm, but it’s the absence of feelings that I recognise. No fear, no loathing, no need for self punishing, doubt - all the range of negative emotions. When I love they are not there, I just feel, well right. I have completely changed as a person, for the better, and my life has been amazing for the change.

So, now here I am again, in the same position as the 5 year old, swinging her legs to and fro waiting to be let back in, asking "What is a relationship with God?” I know that it will be different because my journey has been different. I know that I cannot accept blindly what others may be able to. But my first breakthrough I guess is that I no longer feel bad about that.

A relationship with God, like a relationship with anything else, must grow. It grows on terms that each are comfortable with and those terms and boundaries will change over time as the relationship dictates. It is not dependent on how others interact in their relationship with the same person, because not only are the dynamics of each person and each story different, the dynamics of the union of both in a relationship is also different. And most likely through our talks and walks through our world together, I will get to know his Son and have faith of heart above faith that can be secured with intelligent thought, argument and discussion. But I am not pushing anything and I am not in a rush. I figure the first step is to say

“Hey God, do you just want to talk sometime - you and me? I was wondering if I could touch base with you more often, you know shoot the breeze, talk about how the little things... and sometimes the big things... Oh, and if you can help Liam find his car or another option regarding that I would really appreciate it. Sounds good, talk soon"

The Year of the Phoneix

Well another year has rolled around, and I mean it is rolling - it is already March and there is already a mammoth list to be achieved this year and things have been achieved that I didn't even dare to dream could be possible

But as usual, I get ahead of myself. I feel before the new, there is a time to reflect on the old.

2010 was a magical yet difficult year. For those that follow my blog I am sure you remember the "growth" period I went through that showed prosperity through adversity. Basically, I went through a lot of shit. But through all of it has come growth and a list of achievements, the magnitude of which I still bork at.

"So...?" you are wondering, what did I actually do. Well here is the 2010 list in reflection:

* Perform in the Poetry Slam -

Yes I got up in front of a large number of people and delivered a passionate recount of the throws of a woman in her menstrual flows... through the conduit of a woman who thinks she is a cow that dreams of being a bulldozer. Yes it is strange, and yes it is just the type of lunacy that the average woman feel when she is in the grips of menstrual hormones. But it went down well. Sure I didn't win, but my highest score was 9/10 which I am proud of. Will I do it again this year? Probably - my only issue is how do you top a woman that thinks she is a cow wishing to be a bulldozer?

* Make the world a better place -

Well this goal is one of great lengths measured in small strides. It is not on objective for a year but for a lifetime. So far my charitable exploits have seen me supporting groups such as Amnesty International, Canteen, Autism Queensland and Life Education. And this year is only going to get bigger!

I am now a part of the APHEDA Qld committee which is Union aid abroad - fighting for workers right across the world not just in any one locality. They also raise funds for people in crisis such as with previous events support the Pakistan Floods. This is an organisation that had its begins in Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon in 1984.

I will also being completing the Brisbane Bike Ride, raising funds for [ ]. I will again challenge myself to the Bridge to Brisbane, raising funds for [ ]. My support of Amnesty will continue and have recently committed my support of WSPA (World Society for the protection of animals)

I am also volunteering in Vanuatu in April with underprivileged children and assist with medical and educational assistance to rural communities. The shoot off of this is A.S.P.I.R.E - a bike riding adventure around the WHOLE of New Zealand to raise funds to build a full functional aid post in Vanuatu that is accessible to all the rural communities there.

That I am also part of the Social Justice Practice of Maurice Blackburn... so it is going to be a big year.

* Reduce my carbon footprint

Well this one whilst I have made little efforts here and there myself, has largely been done by my employer. Maurice blackburn has just become carbon neutral - all offices in all states. Can you believe it? We might not be able to rid the world of flatulent cattle but I think it is pretty cool that a national firm cares enough to do this - bravo

* Write a book

Like all things, this one is matter of progress. I am writing, I have characters and a storyline of sorts but since it is a story of personal evolution, albeit through psychosis, there is more experiences to be had before this can come into fruition - keep tuned.

* Land the ultimate dream job that incorporates my degree and travelling

Sorry to disappoint you kiddies, I am living the dream - working for a socially responsible law firm that is posting me all over Queensland in its various offices and getting paid well for it. Soon I will be in Sunny Mooroochydore, surfing before work - all expenses paid. And the sky is the limit from here on in.

* Learn to Dance - Hip Hop

I hipped, I hopped, I beeped and I bopped. I danced the shit out of it. Am I proficient? No. Did I have HEAPS OF FUN? Yes! Am I going back? can I get a Hell Yes!

* Learn to surf

You are looking at the owner of a beautiful 8 ft 9in malibu called mimi (or Marley depending on the day). Like the Hip Hop answer above - I sure as hell am not proficient by any stretch of the imagination. But do I try my guts out? Yes. Do I keep going back out into the ocean when Huey (surf god) pounds into me into modesty? Yes again. Do I have fun - well that is my issue by needing to be perfect. I feel more frustration at times than fun, but I am getting there. When you catch a wave, do a little turn and ride that sucker in - yeah I am having mundo fun.

* Cut off my hair

For 10 years or so I had hair done to my bum and it defined me. I was almost like a pet when so many people would preen over me and pat my hair - NO more! The hair is above my ears and looking funky as hell - as has been for the last year

* Be sober for a year (again)

Believe it or not I did it and raised almost $1000 for Life Education Australia. there you go kiddies -Happy healthy Harrold is still coming to a school near you!

* Give my last dollar to someone who needs it more

Call me a cheater, I did this already when I was in Vietnam, but I try and keep it as a goal to remember just how fortunate I am for the love, support and the means which I possess.

* Climb a mountain

I climbed a freakin mountain. And not just climbed it - free climbed it. In the Glasshouse Mountains, North of Brisbane is where we lay our scene. Trying to impress my then new boyfriend Liam, I surprised him with a camping trip while the promise he could climb whatever he liked - it turned out to be the biggest mountain in the ranges, Mount Triprogahgan (Sorry to the spelling police this is probably not the correct spelling). And I am happy to say that I made it. The next ambition is to climb Liam's favourite mountain... in Africa... the world's 4th highest mountain... yeah I am in trouble!

* Go skydiving

Over Wollongong in NSW, Liam and I jumped from 14 000 ft and scared the absolute sh*t out of myself but then had the time of my life! Not only am I doing it again but I am taking my mum for her birthday in October... bring it kiddies

* Run 10km for charity

As mentioned before I ran 10km in the Bridge to Brisbane 2010 for Autism Queensland... and i did it it just over an hour! I surprised even myself!

On top of this list, I achieve one major thing that I was too scared to even put on the list:

Become the first trainee lawyer to be running her own files by the end of my traineeship - I did this before I officially started my traineeship!

Which brings me to the final thought - be careful what you wish for, because you will get it... without doubt. First I was ridiculously stocked, then I was ridiculously stressed and now I am cruising (until tomorrow- added by Liam and confirmed by myself) - busy is how my work is, how I deal with it is up to me and after all the meltdowns at the beginning, I am doing well.

So kiddies it is a wrap - 2010 was a fruitful year and keep posted because, as the year of the Phoneix - it is going to be HUGE xoxo

New Honesty

A great and loving man once wrote a list about the things he loved about me; the things that inspired him and which he held himself as a mirror for me to see them for myself. And in that mirror not only have I seen them, I see them in their entirety

"I love your honesty"

As new days dawn, I perceive honesty as a different concept to what I have known. It still enscapulates the harsh truth; the realist bite of a sharp wind on a face already moistened by rain. But it is so much more. It is the rain, it is the wind, the face, the ability to feel it all upon one's skin, to know the skin you are in.

Honesty is quiet acceptance of an entirity.

Like a child stepping out of the darkness with a single daisy in one hand outstretch for the taking. The honesty is perceiving not only the child and the endless space of darkness from which she came; but the beauty of her and her flower is its simplistic singularity.

Honesty is more than a chastising voice that tells the little girl that she does not hold a rose. For while it is true the daisy is not a rose, honesty is the ability to see the long slivers of white that protrudes from a sunshine of pollen. Being able to see the fines hairs that soften an otherwise woody stalk; Being able to see the culmination of the small, fine details and be taken aback but the beauty of what it is; not caught by what it is not

For years, and still at times, my glasses would slide down the nose from a sceptical eye and pluck every petal. I would watch them fall, critsing that there were not those of a rose. That they were not perfect in shape, or radiant with colour. That they were not beauty as I perceived it. It was plain; and it was not good enough.


Luckily with age perceptions change. I am the daisy, simple yet beautiful. I am the little girl, holding out myself as I am and unpeturbed by what I am not. It may not be grandiose; it may not fill a room with pundent sweetness, nor cativate the eyes with shades of robust crimson. But what I have is what I give, and what I give is all my love, in its simplistic singularity.

And I honestly couldn't think of anything more beautiful

Little Things

I am captivated, encapsulated, infactuated by the little things. The saddest things is that for the longest time, I never thought they were enough.

Under the dappled sunshine of an afternoon spent by a mandering stream dotted with ducks, cranes and water fowl, I felt the quite joy of being alive. As I watched a wood duck dive into the water with his little bum acting as a buoy each time his head was submerged, I thought I could watch this for hours. I could watch him, I could watch the crane stalk the muddy banks, I could give love and conversation to an old lady that seemed like she hadn't actually been heard in years. I could do all of this and be satisfied.

In those quite moments, special and solitary, where I engage with the world around me, I get the meaning of life. It's not money, though a little more would make my life easier. It's not personal recognition or achievement; its not your car, your watch, your status, your partner's statuts. It is not any of the things that we bend over backwards and break our necks trying to achieve. It is the little things- like ducks' bums.

You see, I have, like many of my human counterparts, being mentally fogged with the preoccupation of comfort. Consumerist desire to attain more, to do less and in turn disconnect from everyone else except for the materialist avatar I leave in my stead; The avatar I work to feed, cloth, program to dance to make the other avatars clap. All the while missing the little things. The things that lets us connect with another human being, the brief moments were souls interwine and say "hey, you know me"

As I walked home from the stream, I though about these little things and my legacy as a human being. I have such grandiose ambitions, empires built on the backs of other people, towers built of money and ruthless ambition so that I can be financially prosperious and THEN be able to help the people I love. Maybe, just maybe when I look down from the wavering heights of my achievements, I will feel validated; satisfied; worthy of the skin I possess?

On this walk, I looked at the two toned wattle blossoms, and saw their beauty even if their decay and thought "I want to be remembered for the little things". The girl that saw beauty in everything. The girl that smiled at everyone she passes, giving a little of her love to any that are willing to receive it. The girl that said she will be there, and without doubt, always was. The girl that held you, loved you and heard you and asked for nothing in return. The girl that relished the little things and the opportunity to be alive.

I know I will achieve a world of things that will make the materially minded envious. I will scale the professional ladder with an ease and flair that will bring both admiration and resentment. But these are not the things that I want to be remembered by. I want to seen for the beauty of my heart, not of my face. I want to be admired for giving my last dollar to someone who needed it more than making my first million. I want more than what I have ever wanted before, yet it is less than what I have set out of achieve.


All I want is to be remembered as the girl that loved

Fight or Flight?

When it is that we develop our instincts to deal with any given suitation? I mean, really, what precise moment in time is it when we programe ourselves to feel; how to react; how to just deal? The bigger question for me know is how do I erase that program and start fresh?

In this changing life when every day is a new world, my honesty with myself is the only stable part of my life. And honestly, I am watching my ship sinking fast. I am adrift in a new world of ideas, emotion, circumstance, and I hate that I cling so desperately to the sinking ships of the past. The world as I know it is dying. This sounds macabre, but it really is beautiful more than anything. The past is shedding from me like skin. I see an ocean of possibilities; of new experience; a chance to be reprogramed. But as I watch the only things I know sink in this ocean, in the midst of its beauty, I am terrified.

I know that I am capable of change; of loving another with wanton abandon and giving that love to myself. But soometimes I think that I push so hard against my resistance that it becomes steadfast rather than allowing slow growth and consequent release. I am trying to live the adventure, be engaged with the journey and I know the wisdom of this path. It stares glaringly at me, as it has the whole time.

But wisdom is easily seen and difficult to enact. There is something holding me back. There is something that I need to let go of or I will sink with all these ships. I feel like I know exactly what this is, but my waking mind cannot describe it. Whatever it is, I know now that I need to face it, look it squarely in the eye and say I know you. There is nothing I can change, There is nothing I need to do. I just need to find acknowledgement so that this great white elephant can finally leave the room.

All I can do is to take the steps that wisdom suggests and let go of my pride. So for once it my life, I will be brave. Not the courage forced by a blind rush into action, though it has been the catalyst for my learning thus far. I will be brave enough to take one step at a time, allow myself to grow rather than pull myself up my the roots. Otherwise, I will run. Always the flight risk, all my mental programs are screaming run, run like you have never run before. But there is something inseide me that anchors me. I just can't run away more. I have to do this, all of it, everything. I have to allow myself to feel

Just a thought for for the Legal Purist

Call me simple;

Call me naive;

Call me a lawyer in her infancy, closing her eyes and pushing her fingers deep into her ears because she refuses to believe what she sees. But what is happening to this beautiful entity by which lawyers surrender their integrity, their ambition, their will to by right but the world and in its place justice is born? The institution which I have subscribed, the one to which I will willing give myself in the pursuit of a better world, one case at a time?

What I am is an idealist. I believe in the law; as an institution, as a social regulator, as a mother to a world of unruly children that need both guidance and a firm hand. But my heart pales when her virtue is ever so slowly being stripped away as she climbs into bed with politics, media and business. Strategic maneuvers of vendetta on personal and global fronts, Her guiding hand forced into a fists to strike blows of the cowardly vengeful.

Why is it that increasing costs will give a father a right to his son, when the decency to admit to a web of fabricated lies is not enough? When a advocate will allow bitter malice to manipulate the law into a vice around the hearts of those we can no longer control. When did justice and moral decency take a backseat? Will it ever drive again?

Why is it the media and her wanton ways; disloyal, unfaithful, lustful and flippant- turn the heads of many, propel them to do what is just? For them to purge, to recede, to sing, to dance? And the worse that we accept it? That we watch them lay themselves on the mercy of the court, kneel in legal confessional when they have not the heart to support the conviction of their pleas. Purely forced by the torturous media, pinning their arms behind their back until they scream uncle that bring those words to part. The fact that so may of my fellow advocates allow the worship of such a false idol; allows justice to move to the hands of the media tyrant; watches the law and her majesty fade to a shell of historic formality is what brings shadow into my heart

This world is mourning the loss of valour in man; the humanity, the honour, the dignity and divinity to serve the truth. In a debaucherous world where we would rather serve the harlot media, the vengence of man or the mistress of politics than the law in her virtue, I am lost.

For me, The law is our mother, her arms open and whisper these gentle words to those that still have the ability to hear her:

"Come to me. I will do what is right; by you; by the community for which you are the "I". I may be harsh, but I will be fair. I will weight you by the feather of truth and with the guidance of your peers, you shall be judged.

But know this: If you do not resist me, I will be your guiding light. I will show you the purification of contrition and the salvation to do right by your fellow man. I will give you tangible payment so that your soul may purge this injurious assault.

But if you betray me, and to the depths of your deceit, you will be matched by reciprocal fury. Fore in the end all lessons are the same and must be learned. It is you that chooses the path for which you will be lead"


God give me the grace to bring to life these virtues;
To restore the law to her rightful brilliance;
To return faith and confidence in her to the society of which she is their servant

The Last Stand

The blog has been an outpouring of my soul and the opportunity to be honest with myself. I was about to apologise to anyone that reads this (i.e. Charity) but I have to stop apologising for myself and how I feel. This is growth and how I feel is validate. Do I want to feel better? Of course I do. Do i feel somewhat soul destroyed at the moment? Yes I do. And is that feeling valid? for the first time I can give myself a big mental hug and say yes, yes it is.

I have spent a long time lying to myself. About who I am, what I feel and what I want to be. The honesty- I just want to be me and I don't know what that is yet. I am in the transition mode, wafting like smoke between what I was and who I will be, grasping at straws and constantly analysing myself trying to identify what and who exactly I am. But more to the point I have been processing my past and I realise that I have been carrying it around on on my back like an over stuffed duffel bag. I know it is important and I need to peel off all the band-aids that have kept me together and covered all the lessons I needed to learn. The band-aids that covered the aching pain I have willing held onto like a security blanket.

So like everyone else on this planet, I got screwed. I had my heart broken in spectacular fashion and I have covered and belittled it for so long. The pain I feel is valid, my need to hold on to it is not. What scared me more than the pain is the paralysing fear of the unknown. I am trembling but I am ready to change. I am changing. I close my eyes and feel myself moving forward, stepping into the darkness of the unknown worlds. I am petrified but I am here. There is a raging panic and vulnerability that shakes me to my core, but I keeping walking.

Step.... by step..... by step

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I have been uninspired for such a long time, unhappy with where I am at, But I hold on to the past with rigid fear that I prevented myself from been able to change. I feel my fingers slowly realising their grip, shedding hot burning tears and I watch the years fall from me like tissues in the wind. I am not my past, I am not my future. My failures and achievements will never define me. I am ready for the adventure that life is. I am ready to feel excited by the unknown. I am excited by the little bud of hope that is breaking the surface within me. The beginning of new life that fear, the past and my need to be the victim that have repressed for so long.

And now, I open my eyes. I can see; see the habits I fall into because I am afraid to actually feel something new. The feeding of emotions with food, trying the dull the anxiety that I might fail at everything because... just because. And with these open eyes I take those set forward, repair what needs to be repaired, uncover the wealth of emotion that I have forbidden myself to feel, throwing dusting sheets off a heart I put into storage years ago. Dropping the masks, the acts, the preprogrammed dances I performed to show the world what I think they want to see. So they will accept me. With my heart bursting forth from my chest in heaving beats and life's pumps through it once more, I let "them" go. I accept myself. I accept that I am a mystery to myself and what I find in this new life may scare me. But I am excited by the fact that I might actually like what I find. Might actually already be all the things I have always wanted to be. I might believe in myself





Oh fear, oh beauteous fear
I loved you;
I loathed you;
My heart I had bestowed to
New eyes in which to see
The life that was bereft of me
I have feel the depth of your sorrow
I was the bitter sting;
the cold wind
That swept through your shadow
I am naked
Shivering
But I can suckle at your teet no more

Birthing hope-
Undulating joy by chance elope
Fly forth;
An open envelope...
Past spewed forth now fades
Dulled by the light of new days
Shimmers in the distance
It is infancy; pure
A beacon in which my soul will burn
And through the fire reborn

Like Hope I shall rise:
I am rising; I am risen
Unto myself I am forgiven
Unprise my fingers
Fear once choked, now choked no more
Time once stalled
Ticks on with quiet persistence
Stride forward with courageous resistance
I am not the shadow
I am the light