Christmas Came Early


Christmas came early – I wasn’t ready!
My fridge was all empty, my house was not cleaned
Nothing was wrapped with beautiful ribbons
Nothing prepared to be opened and seen

Still Christmas came, though I tried to outrun him
To keep him in front, to buy myself time
“I want to be perfect for Christmas!” I told me
Purposeful, whole, enlightened, sublime!

But he didn’t care if I was ready
He simply arrived


Yes Christmas came early this year, when you found me
And although I tried to push Christmas away
You untied the ribbons, you unwrapped the wrapping
Of gifts I’d forgotten, of presents astray

You filled up my fridge with all that was missing
You helped me to clean, you brought in a tree
You smiled, and I knew then: there’s no use in running
‘Cus Christmas will come when HE’s ready, not me!

Just Before The Light


And with all the stories stripped away
The awareness left can be so painfully silent
Painfully lonely

When there is nothing left to analyse
No one left to blame
Not even myself
That moment before acceptance, peace
when the darkness embraces me
with love
And I twist and turn to get away
But it holds me like a mother holds an upset child
Until I finally surrender in its arms

That moment just before it releases me to run back into the light to play

Yep, that moment…

Låt Tårarna Rinna

Min älskade vän, låt tårarna rinna
Låt smärtan skrika, tills dess röst är hes
Gråt ut dina tankar, släpp dom med tårarna
Låt dom rinna och smälta och försvinna sin väg

För tankar är till för att släppas i frihet
Behåll bara kärleken, släpp aldrig den
Låt den bo i det tomrum din saknad har skapat
Låt den veta att aldrig du överger den

Släpp smärtorna lös som en rening av själen
En rening av godo, en chans till nåt nytt
Behåll bara vetskapen hur du vill känna
Kärleken, så du vet när den står där på nytt

Dedicated to someone very special, who lost her best friend.

I Surrender

sharing my writing


i’ve been twisting and turning the concept forever

its whys and hows and whats

watching it like a gemstone in my hand, shifting colours in the light

until i finally accepted its beauty

without understanding its purpose

I’ve been so resistant to sharing my writing for the last few years. Only a few people have heard any of my hundreds of poems and texts. I’m an incurable analyst, so of course I’ve been trying to understand why. Am I afraid? Am I too hard on myself? Is it my general uncomfortableness with the information overload of modern society? Is it my despise of attention seeking? My need for privacy? Do I fear telling lies? And at this point I would get circular and start over again. Am I afraid? …

I surrender. I’ll try to give you raw feelings on a plate of words, for you to eat if you’re hungry and leave if you’re not. I guess neither food nor feelings care if they’re eaten, once they have been slaughtered and prepared, so I better just serve it.