Now Bloom! 🔊


You ask how I am

I tell you I’m broken

You wish I had lied

You don’t like the broken

So you want to fix me

But you’re too busy running

Running for perfect

You don’t want imperfect

So you should really fix me

But you can’t, you don’t see me

You’re too busy dying

Dying to heal

Green smoothie in one hand

Your thoughts in the other

No hand free for helping

And now you feel guilty!

You tell me you’re busy…

I exhaust you.

“It’s the full moon”

You say

As if that changes anything

All I said

was that I’m broken

The rest was in YOUR head!

I just want you to see me, and know there is nothing to fix!

I just want you to feel me, and ask what I need!

Because for some reason

Your words are important to me

You’re me

I am you

We are whole

We are broken

Don’t fix me

Just love me

Just see me in pieces

Broken by life

And inside there’s a flower

Don’t fix me

I’m perfect!

Don’t close what’s been opened!

You’re me

And you’re broken

You’re perfectly broken

Now bloom!

I Close My Bud 🔊


my fear?
that you will change me

no, you’re right
that I will change myself in your presence
become something i’ve lost control of
in the worst of ways
and in doing so, wither and die

yes control, that’s what i’m craving
disguised as freedom and easy-goingness
autonomy and independence
but what it comes down to in the end, is control
the power of being exactly. precisely. me.
and i don’t trust myself to be strong enough to stay still in your storm
it’s as simple as that

so instead of trust I choose avoidance
a safer option
here, by myself, hidden, i can stay in control
it’s the closest thing to an escape route
it’s running without running
just as efficient, just not as uprooting

some people are trees, and sometimes I envy them
their roots are deep in the ground
storms may shake their crowns, but they stand firm, rather unchangeable

i’m not a tree

i’m a flower

a beautiful proud flower by the side of the road
and people who notice me stop to admire
and i freeze in fear and close my bud
hoping hoping hoping they will walk on, that they will not bend down and pick me
bring me home and put me in a vase and tell me who I am!


isn’t that a flower’s destiny, too?
to inspire
to shine and be admired?
why am I judging that path?

most flowers shine in anonymity, hidden on a field for no one to see
some flowers are raised to be admired, bred for inspiration, products of the flower entertainment industry
with a clear path, a set destiny
a label, a vase, a place on a table or a window sill

and then again some flowers simply happen to be born by the side of a road
with a POSSIBILITY to be seen
a choice to shine at the risk of being noticed, picked and altered
or to close their buds when someone approaches to ensure that at least when no one is watching, they can be exactly. who. they. are.

my fear?
that you would change me

but maybe you would simply pick me with love, carefully carry me home, remove those broken blades to bring out my uttermost beauty, put me somewhere where you can always see me, and let me fill you with joy, presence, gratitude, love

maybe that’s what you would do
if I didn’t close my bud by the mere sound of your footsteps…


Two Times Divorced, One Time Widowed 🔊


I’m two times divorced, two times the journey
of questions, of why and what ifs
How did it happen, why didn’t I notice?
Who are you, who am I, who were we?

It’s a matter of the mind, a mind searching for logic
Stuck in a dream that is gone
But if I’d listened within to what my heart was saying
I’d heard “no” and “come on let’s move on”

But our hearts are loving, they patiently wait
for our minds to let go and to follow
For only together they’ll conquer the world
Its darkness, its pain, and its sorrow

I’m two times divorced and one time widowed
But from death, the heart doesn’t move
It sits down where sense vanished, where now flowers are growing
Allowing itself just to mourn

For there’s no logic to get, no questions to answer
There was never a “no” in the heart
“So why then move on?” the heart might be asking
“I’m here with the flowers, the love!”

It sits there and waits for the mind to come back
A mind that ran off in despair
And then, only then, it is ready for new love
Maybe yours, if you’re willing to sit there

Sharing my heart with someone who died
Sharing the love and the flowers
Trusting that you can find no greater love
Than that bred in the soil of these flowers