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The World came to me, I greeted the World And the World allowed me to feel its pulse Liken to a manifestation of fluttering butterflies, Some would land and linger To be caressed in their full beauty And then released Unharmed to continue their Sacred Journey Our purpose fulfilled... for now.
The Picture Perfect theme for this week is "Looking through". The photo is of my crystal. When I went crystal shopping, I heard words like 'flawless', 'perfect', 'unmarred', 'not dirty'. I found crystals that matched those words, but didn't like them. I ended up buying a crystal that was like me.... a crystal that was flawed, but carried a flame in its heart.
The page is empty first scratchings of the pen the ink ran out or was it dry
Thoughts are busy winding through the maze that is my head Are they lost?
Pictures before my eyes yesterday's memories and tomorrow's dreams I close my mind's eye before today intrudes on the pictures of my mind with his demanding voice and clamouring ways
Somewhere there is peace a tranquil woodland a tinkling stream disturbed only by the birds and my breath
my thoughts are floating round... and round... on wings of imagination flittering through the gossamer curtains of my mind they catch the breeze... and fly out into the sunshine... away on candy cotton clouds drifting... swaying... flying high they catch the tail of the swallow passing through the trees bouncing off onto a leaf floating.... drifting down.... and up again on the wind catching a ride on the wings of a dragonfly catching a ride on the wings of my imagination
The photo above is taken in the Valley of Flags outside Steytlerville in the Klein Karoo, South Africa. I was in boarding school there for a time.
I received a phone call from home today. There is a possibility that I may be going home for the first time in 8 years. My friend is having surgery and lives alone. She's looking for a 'baby sitter', as she won't be able to manage on her own while healing. I will probably, if I go, be there for 6 - 8 weeks. This has brought a surge of memories and emotions to light. Its something I have dreamt of with an unrelenting homesickness.
This song is by Laurika Rauch, one of my favourite South African artists. The song is very folkish and in Afrikaans, so you're not expected to understand it. In the refrain, the words go:
"...'n Reis deur die verlede sal ook hartseer bring, maar my voete wil weer dans en my lippe wil weer sing..." which translates to: "... A journey through the past will also bring heartache, but my feet once again want to dance and my lips want to sing..."
The song takes me through familiar scenes (not the car!) and memories.
I know a trip back home will bring heartache. I am terrified of disturbing the past. We are at a time where we are looking to the future with great excitement. Now I am facing the past again. I am terrified of leaving my daughter and husband. I know they will manage and will hardly starve without me. I think its me that needs them, not the other way around. We've so often spoke of me going home, but now that the reality may be here... I find myself hesitating. I'm afraid of what I might find. As my friend said, its sure to cure my homesickness. Naturally, if she calls, I will go. Its just who I am... if a friend or family member needs me, I'm there. It helps, of course, that she will be paying for it.
Ugh! Why am I worrying... nothing is confirmed yet and the whole thing could still fall through.
To answer questions I get asked all the time... I am South African. My ancestors were among those who stepped off the ships from Holland in 1652. It is a strong lineage, so I can say from the depths of my being that I am a child of South Africa. It is where my roots are.
I met a lovely lady, who is now living in Scotland. She wrote this poem after having to leave her own homeland, Rhodesia (Zimbabwe). Its a poem that echoes the way I feel.... I have permission from Michelle to post this poem on my site. For those who read it, please respect her copyright and always include her name with the poem.
Homeland
Within my soul, within my mind, There lies a place I cannot find Home of my heart. Land of my birth. Smoke-coloured stone and flame-coloured earth. Electric skies. Shivering heat. Blood-red clay beneath my feet.
At night when finally alone, I close my eyes - and I am home. I kneel and touch the blood-warm sand And feel the pulse beneath my hand Of an ancient life too old to name, In an ancient land too wild to tame.
How can I show you what I feel? How can I make this essence real? I search for words in dumb frustration To try and form some explanation, But how can heart and soul be caught In one-dimensional written thought?
If love and longing are a "fire" And man "consumed" by his desire, Then this love is no simple flame That mortal thought can hold or tame. As deep within the earth's own core The love of home burns evermore.
But what is home? I hear them say, This never was yours anyway. You have no birthright to this place, Descendant from another race. An immigrant? A pioneer? You are no longer welcome here.
Whoever said that love made sense? "I love" is an "imperfect" tense. To love in vain has been man's fate From history to present date. I have no grounds for dispensation, I know I have no home or nation.
For just one moment in the night I am complete, my soul takes flight. For just one moment....then it's gone and I am once again undone. Never complete. Never whole. White Skin and an African soul.
Michelle Frost
I had a lighthearted post in mind... about an endearing little dog. I think I'll post that tomorrow when I can think a clearer.
I am feeling ghastly. I think the pastel I ate earlier must have been somewhat offish, but never mind that. I keep in mind the possible weight loss ;)
Tatiana, my gorgeous daughter, is not only too pretty for her own good, but she writes the most amazing stuff. Do pop along and have a look at her poem. She has a whole collection of them she has written over the years, but doesn't consider them good enough for public viewing. Her blog is brand new and I'm trying to convince her to write more.
I am now going off to the kitchen to see if there is anything I can stomach. And hey... its Friday! Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
FOOTNOTE: I have decided to inlude Tatiana's poetry entry here, in case it's lost on 360.
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Well I'm bored, and was looking for something to post on here... Mom suggested earlier that I post a poem or something of mine on here... Maybe I should =P um... *looks for something to post* Mom suggested this one, I wrote 2 years ago =)
Ancient Words
A quill coming to life, The hand holding it – Trembles uncontrollably
Scripts on ancient paper, A quill laid to rest… Words that come to life, That can make you laugh or cry Ancient words, Warming ancient hearts
The writer feeling every word he writes, Yet letting the quill take its own course Letting it fly along the paper In its own rhythm Its own time
Feelings flying to fingertips Longing to be free, To be spoken To be heard…
A gift of words, Feelings finally spoken of… Hopes and wishes coming true… All through words – Feelings Flying through fingertips
