This drug called Love

I remember like it was yesterday. This clarity frightens me, it’s the sign of a wound I can’t heal, a portal to a place that turns me into a danger to myself and to others.

No one could ever predict it, or even imagine the brutality of these emotions. After all, it’s me. The sweet, gentle, polite me. Yet, for years I acted like a drug addict.

There’s no metaphor here, not in my screams, not in my violence, not in my pain! I see myself begging for love, falling on my knees, manipulating, threatening him to give me back what I thought it’s mine for eternity. His love. Expressed through attention, tenderness, passion, care, admiration, respect…any of this would be better than nothing.  Because the nothing he offered created the mad me.

And, just like a drug addict, I see myself trembling, taking pills, all sort of pills, searching, always searching…desperately searching for someone or something to replace his love. I see the mad me blindly repeating this scenario with others, just to prove myself that I’m the good one. I’m still lovable, while they…

The mean ones, the bad ones, the seduced ones and the abandoned ones. Then, back to the start, because my prince was supposed to be there! Among the mean ones, the bad ones, etc…I took, more than once, an overdose of hours spend on line. An overdose of princes turned into frogs. It proved to be almost deadly.

Am I still a danger to myself and to others?

It’s easy, I guess, to just say the words…”God’s love healed me”…in fact, it took me years to build this kind of faith inside me. And sometimes I feel it wasn’t me at all. Maybe the promise of a greater Love, or just the green hills embraced by golden light, in my dreams, or was it the warmth that keeps me safe, like a pair of protective arms around me, every time I fall…

I promised myself I’ll never be on my knees, begging for love, never again.

I promised Him I’ll always look up with a smile, waiting to return HOME.

Let it be me

When silence kills my metaphors, what’s left for me to say?

I’m grateful for this loneliness, because it brought me back to myself, it forced me to clearly define what I’m missing. It took away the veil and then I saw it. The scared little girl who fought so hard…her love was a flower fading away in the winds of life…she couldn’t let it go, so she locked her heart and went wild and crazy against the flow…

What does my heart desire? Just one moment of pure honesty, even if I’m tempted, once again, to play with words. It’s been so long since I last listened…

So here I am, facing this agonizing fear of losing. No place left to run away or even to turn my head to, there’s always a story of loss, anywhere I look. Life and love, I want them both to stay! Because I love him now, more than ever before. And time is slipping through my fingers.

I prayed today, like I do every evening, ever since I became aware of the dangers that lay in the darkness. I prayed even if I couldn’t, once again, find my words. My heart repeated the same sentence again and again! Lord, please don’t let it be a blasphemy!

It’s all about love, God of Mercy…and now I see it clearly.

So, let it be me.

 

 

Can you hear me crying?

68281533_2631272606903364_8485486330300596224_nPages filled with angry words…metaphors for an agonizing love.

Rooms filled with hateful screams…expression of a dying passion.

Hearts filled with emptiness.

They asked us to stay isolated and we did it! Many years ago…

 

Today is different, my love. This tremble inside me -a sign that I’m still alive- reminds me of warmth, so I’ll just take my favorite blanket and wrap it around my bare feet, celebrating my sweet memories…

Tonight is special, my dearest. This salty taste of tears on my burning lips -a sign that I’m still awakened- reminds me of sweetness, so I’ll just take a glass of red wine and some of the finest dark chocolate, honoring the woman in me…

Right now…that’s all I have, my precious. This beautiful silence in my restless soul -a sign that I’m still blessed- reminds me of rising above pain and ashes, so I’ll just play my favorite love songs, commemorating our bitter-sweet story…

 

And, as darkness settles in, my beloved, I’ll cry for all the missed embraces, for all the words that never found their way between us. For you and me -the isolated ones- who murdered love in too many cruel ways. Forgive me for needing you that desperately.

Can you hear me crying, my love? I’m right here, on the other side of the wall…

 

 

 

Photo from my personal collection

You say I am loved… (a different kind of Valentine’s Day story)

…and I fail, every single time.

Prologue:

-Call the police, quickly, there’s a homeless girl here, in front of our apartment. She’s not moving…

-Great, what a great way to start Valentine’s Day! What are you doing?

-I’m going to see if she’s hurt. Maybe she needs some food…

-Well, why don’t you invite her in?!

-I should, you know? I should! Jesus would do that!

-Then let Him invite her to where He lives, okay? I can’t believe it!

“I grabbed the little few things that could be found in my fridge on this early, rainy morning and stuffed them in a bag. I looked away, not to see, not to feel the disappointment in his eyes, while, with trembling hands I opened the front door.

“Stop fooling around, police is on its way, there’s really no point in what you’re doing!”

The smell was horryfying, the view was terrible, it was mud and traces of blood and still, under (what used to be) a dirty blanket, I saw a small move. One step closer and my stomach was rebelling, but I needed to lean down, to see the pleading eyes.

“For God’s sake, we’ll never get rid of her if you start feeding her! Come back inside!”

Helpless arms rose behind the blanket, a defensive gesture, meant to be self-protective, and the eyes looked my way. My voice was weak, “don’t be afraid, it’s food…for you”, and she mumbled something. I put the bag right next to her and ran back inside.

“Make sure the door is locked, she might be dangerous!”

I did it and then, I just stood there, unable to move, overwhelmed by shame. I failed…

“No, honey, you did not fail. Police will take her to a shelter, They will provide decent clothes, a warm bed, basics, right? You gave her food, you were kind to her, I guess it’s enough.”

No, I was not kind, no, it was not nearly enough…

She needed a hot tea. A decent “hello, do you need any help?”. An embrace. Someone to ask about her name and her age. A human touch. She needed care, protection and love.

She deserves a Valentine’s Day too!

And I failed.”

Epilogue:

Police came, they said they’ll take her to a shelter. I know because I heard her screams long after they left.

“Don’t take me there! Don’t! At least, let me take my bag! It is mine! An angel gave it to me! It’s food there, my food! The angel said it’s food for me there, in the bag…”

The food remained there, scattered on the floor.

And I still hear her screams.

Wings of fire

wings-2595714_960_720Uncertain and fragile, the words fly from my lips, like restless butterflies in the midsummer. I hide my eyes in the warmth of his body, while my senses are invaded by the woody flavor of his skin. Addictive and profound, his perfume embraces my whole being, leaving me no choice but to surrender to the desire he creates in me…

A gentle touch and the fire spreads through my body, ravaging boundaries and senseless rules, melting walls of fear, giving life to an inner world that stopped existing so long ago. He knows it and I can feel his fiery smile, as he unwraps this wild heart, turning every beat into a melody…

Unhesitatingly and willingly, my heart reveals the gift it carries inside, rushing its rhythm until his world and mine are one perfect universe of emotion. And, while my mind still denies it, while doubts speak the arguments of reason, he takes me to a place of wonders, a castle where broken dreams become whole again…

Memories turned into white fog, for I’m too weary to remember the glorious crown I used to wear. No longer the princess in my high cold-iced tower, no longer the prisoner of a life that broke me, and so much more than an angel, this woman that rose from the ashes is wild and hungry for a love she was always denied of. Desire burning through my veins, while my lips whisper and my heart sighs…

Will he be brave enough this time…

…to play with fire?

 

 

all credits for the picture, to the site of free photos http://www.pixabay.com

 

 

For you too…

resilience_introI know you cried too.

The rain carried your burning tears so they would meet mine. We need to cry together more often…I whispered in the hollowing wind and I know…

I know you heard me.

It took me too long, again, and it felt like failing. Why do our most powerful feelings need so much time to turn into words?

It took me too long to reach out my hands to you. To embrace the space between us, defying distance, time, odds…history.

I know you felt it too. My arms around you.

We see the world through different eyes and, yet, our hearts bled together for the same cause. That’s all it takes. You are my family, as I am yours, united by an unbreakable bond.

Faith. We speak different languages and, yet, when my prayers stopped, you continued with yours. When my voice got weak, you raised yours, and when I blamed the sky for all the tragedy of this hopeless world…that’s when you asked for forgiveness.

In my name too…

We see the world through different veils, some chosen, some imposed. I would wear yours in a blink of the eye, if that would save me from my own! I would cover my face if that would guarantee the uncovering of my heart. But this would never happen…

And you know it too.

east-attacks-sri-lankaPeople. Religion. Churches. They build them just to take them down! They would gladly use their guns and bombs and pride…to set our souls on fire. They did it, they’ll do it again…while you and me, we learn to be more than innocent bystanders.

I know you fight too! For my cause too…

My friend…my brother…my sister…the things that unite us are stronger than hate. Even if we both need to close our eyes, in order to see each other’s hearts…That’s already a little, perfect miracle! Now take my hand, I’m here with you, willing to believe!

For you too…Because, now, we all became survivors!

 

 

 

 

The source of the images: https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2018/02/science-resilience-what-are-ingredients-help-people-cope

Deadly Attacks in Sri Lanka Target Luxury Hotels and Churches

 

How to fill an empty page

3524484971_a524f481d3_bHe slowly walks towards us, just to say hello, obviously disturbed by our presence. He asked us to be there, but it’s in his nature to make people feel small, unimportant and weak. His arrogant smile tells us he had his way…

As I watch myself in the small mirror on the dark corridor, I have to admit, I do look small and humble, so I guess he succeeded. I can tell, by the watery hand that I’m holding, that I’m not the only one feeling scared.

She comes to us with an honest smile, but her eyes look down and I cannot see any spark, any shining human emotion. She is polite and sociable, she can show interest towards anyone and anything, but we all know, it’s just for the show.

There’s nothing real in the affection and attention she mimics.

He speaks of subjects he reads, he explains science documentaries he saw. She smiles and nods, without interrupting him, of course, it would be so rude! But I do and I love it! I love how his eyes get narrow and his rictus grin becomes uglier than ever. Do I hate him? I probably do.

I interrupt him just to speak with her. To ask her how she’s feeling. To see those blue eyes, that once were bright, lifting slowly to meet my gaze. To see that smile, that once was honest, appearing again for a brief moment. To hear her say she’s alright, even if I know she’s lying!

But his voice covers her fragile answers and I know…from now on, I’ll only get silence from her. And ugly, angry eyes from him. I did crossed some ridiculous line. But they needed us here, so this is where we’re staying.

Because this family picture has no value without witnesses.

I should be leaving, but something tells me to stay and to try again and again to bring her back. From the imaginary world she’s creating behind those quiet blue eyes. A world where she can rebel, a world where she feels loved.

Years from this moment he’ll sit by her coffin, explaining us about cancer. The causes, the symptoms, the costs! And I’ll stay there, watching her white, small, tired body, taken to the grave. And I’ll swear I’ll never be like that!

I’ll fight a million battles with the force of my rebellion! And I’ll shout a million angry words! And I’ll break a million chains and barriers if that’s what it takes!

For now…all I have is an empty page, where I should write about her. Her necrology…and I’m lost for words…Because happiness can only fill a heart and sadness is empty by itself. It’s only anger that fills this empty page…

And faith that fills an empty heart. 

And love is the reason behind this blog post.

 

 

 

Is there anyone out there?

canary-birds-indoor-hazards“Anyone at all?” she asked in a broken voice, but only the falling leafs seemed to answer to her calling. They flew around her, swirling and giggling in the wind’s turmoil. She was never that lonely, nor that eager to run into someone’s arms. Anyone’s arms…

She was a runaway, like so many others before her. Little birds, escaping golden cages, brave little creatures who craved for more than crumbles, they needed the rain and the rainbow, the sun and the lightnings, the love and the passion of being free!

This little bird always considered her story as being boring, common and flat. Nothing to complain about in her perfect little world. Nothing to dream about, for she never truly knew her needs and her desire. Hunger and thirst, cold and heated, desperate and euphoric…those were notions she only knew theoretically…

In a perfectly round cage, safety is a sure thing. That’s how her masters used to say and she learned gratitude by heart! That’s what kept her away the cold, dangerous, tormented, real world outside. She would never ask if she’s free to fly.

Freedom? Of course she’s free! Can’t you see that I never locked her in? Can’t you find the open door, sweet little bird? But she was violently shaking her little head in the palm of her keeper. NO! No open door would ever be more alluring than his fingers gently caressing her silky feathers.

So he acted neglectful and she became restless. Not only the little door of her golden cage, but also the big window of the his golden home…how many temptations is a little heart doomed to repress? If the enemy’s out there, in the big, wild world…then how come she’s so sad and lonely, right here, inside?

It was not the hand that fed her, it was not him to blame for this outcome…

It’s the eye that stopped seeing her beauty, it’s the ear that stopped hearing her songs, it’s the heart that stopped beating in the same rhythm as hers.

“Anyone at all? Anyone to love with everything in me? Anyone to care  for this crazy little bird? Just someone…anyone…”

She was just a runaway who, like so many others before her, disappeared under the starry sky. And we’ll never know…

if she found anyone at all…

or she went into the unknown, hungry and exhausted…

if she ever found her way back home…

or she just found an escape from the big wild cage we call REAL world…

if someone loved her to her last moments…

or another hunter loved to have in her a different kind of pray.

But there’s one thing I’m sure about: She wont be the last little bird who’s replacing an illusion for another. You, little bird, just like me, with struggling hearts, desperately kicking the walls of our golden cages…freedom…what an impossible dream…what a misfortune…

it’s in our human nature to fulfill it!

 

 

I found the image at: https://www.picturesboss.com/pictures/canary-bird-flying-0c.html

 

My favorite miracle today…

1-1P919111457

The blue skies are smiling above me and, for one moment, it’s almost impossible to remember my blindness. Was it my free choice or was it, simply, another way of growing? I needed time and I needed honesty…

To face my dark side, to let the darkness tell its stories…to fall…yes, I needed this falling.

Because my eyes refused to see the Light and my heart denied the Love. Blinded by the veil that was meant to protect me, I could not accept the salvation. I thought I’m safer there…on the darkest paths of my soul.

The things I found out were the truths that have always haunted me.

That love will only survive in a free, childlike heart.

And faith turns life into a joyful journey, even when it’s hard.

And perfection doesn’t belong to a human soul.

But I was old, too old…and sad, too sad….judgemental and too critical…to be even able to see Love…or Faith doing their miracles into my life. This was my blindness. My brokenness and my pain. This was the reason for my running away.

The blue skies are smiling above me, like they always did. And here I am, back home, learning all the little, imperfect steps. I may not be a bright light on this earth made of so many nuances, I may not use the right words when they’re needed, my love may not find ways to express itself loud enough, clear enough…but I am home.

Home, where I know I am loved.

I guess that’s my favorite miracle today.

 

 

I found the image at: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-a-pathway-1690355/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t call it “dark”!

She is beautiful in her favorite pink dress, with flowers and puffy sleeves. She wears matching ribbons in her blonde hair and her shoes have fine silver lines with just the perfect touch of glitter. She has the brightest smile, simply glowing in the light of the summer’s sun.

She always smiles. 

She knows how precious love can be, that’s why all her words creates love and kindness. Her memories go back to the moment when she promised she’ll never be alone again, so she’s holding on to this promise with the strength of a thousand waterfalls. She will say whatever it’s needed to whomever needs it.

She always says the right words.

She never cries in public because she was told that that’s the biggest disgrace for such a lovely little girl. It was enough for her to repress an ocean of anger, pain and frustration. The scratched knees, the rejections, the missunderstanding of a world that only asks for drama…who needs her tears? And who needs her truths?

She always walks proudly, holding her head up high.

Well, one day she fell. Her perfect glittering shoes betrayed her and the puffy sleeves proved to be nothing but useless pieces of outfit. It also proved that her favorite pink dress wasn’t quite an armor and the matched ribbons were not supposed, after all, to protect her beauty from the mischievous mud she fell in.

She called it “dark”. And darkness needs to be fought and defeated. Right?

So she became a warrior and, like every true hero, she started to save people. The main purpose was the salvation of the world itself, but she was willing to admit that that’s quite a challenge these days. What will you do with a world who refuses to be saved? In the name of faith…that’s how she justified her bravery. Still, there are no words to justify her loneliness and her foolishness. And when her faith was nothing but a facade…

Will she be called “a demon” if she cannot pray anymore?

Sweet little girl, where are your tears, when you scratch your knees, falling to the ground?

Brave child, where are your cries for help, when they took away their love, leaving you orphan and incomplete?

Beautiful heart, where do you keep your anger, when they ask you to be kind instead of breaking these hypocrite walls of righteousness?

Will you blame it on your dark side?

Well, don’t call it “dark”. It’s only human.