Life: the spoils of war

Good morning!

Just a quickie today.

In the diary that I kept while I was taking a creative writing course a couple years ago, I stumbled upon a poem that yelled at me from the page. If I listened carefully, I can hear trumpets and a shout spurring me to action. This poem came from my insides – from a place that I had just discovered. In it, I hear my voice full of pain, but also full of triumph and pride.

They come.
They take.
They push.

But now,
I push back.
I shove back.

“IT’S MY LIFE!”

Earned
Fought for
Almost died for
My real self nearly lost forever.

Now

I will enjoy the spoils of the war.

Live your life, have fun, enjoy being who you are, enjoy being the self you’re fighting or you fought to be.

Have a good week, my friends!

Vikera ❤

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Oh to be young again!

Remember the last time you had a crush? A couple of my friends have been throwing around the word lately, which feels weird because we’re in our thirties. Aren’t crushes and swooning for teenagers? I am an expert on teenage crushes having had many, many crushes myself when I was younger.

I was looking for a poem to share today and I found this one I wrote last year. From the looks of it, I had a crush on someone who had a crush on me. (I know who it is, but I won’t say. I’m blushing as I’m typing this!) I guess I wanted him to make the first move, which obviously never happened.

Nevertheless, I think crushes are fun. They keep you dreaming, they keep you giddy and nervous and in a constant state of anticipation, which, as an adult, you might need sometimes. It’s even more intense when your crush might have a crush on you! A crush then becomes this vortex of fantasy, a longing and wishing until one day one of you fights back the fear and says, “I think you’re kinda awesome.”

Siiiigh.

The Crush by Vikera Hunte

He plays with my mind

like a kitten with a ball of string.
He touches, then runs away –
intrigued but scared
wanting to but not wanting to
and then not wanting to but still wanting to

“See you soon,” he says.

Maybe one day
he’ll want me enough to not be scared
Or not want me enough to let me go.

Maybe one day
desire will overcome fear.

Maybe.

My curves

The curves of my

welcoming smile

The curves of my

man-crushing thighs

 

The curves of my

life-giving breasts

The curves of my

brown, honest eyes

 

The curves of my

child-bearing hips

The curves of my

stretched-marked sides

 

My curves:

They make me who I am.

Walls

Sometimes your heart is your biggest liability. Sure, it shows you how to love and it retains love, but sometimes, the heart can be your worst enemy! Your heart has a way of not keeping up with the times. It holds onto things better left in the past: people, emotions, memories that evoke feelings of security, happiness and a wholeness that no longer exist.

This poem I wrote is dedicated to those who have to build walls around their heart to protect them from people they used to love – people who the heart keeps forgetting to forget.

My poem is called ‘Walls’

I must build walls
Walls that keep me safe
Walls that keep you out

Once, we had nothing
but each other
inseparable, content
our lives subsets
no walls, only the ones
we built around our hearts

Now, there is a wall
built brick by brick
mortar and rock
to keep me safe
to keep you out –
out of my heart

I must build walls
walls that keep me safe
walls that keep you out

In my dreams

My Mummy [Photo taken by Vikera Hunte. Do not copy without permission.]

My Mummy
[Photo taken by Vikera Hunte. Do not copy without permission.]

I need to start by saying, I never thought I would be strong enough to share a picture of my Mum, but I’m getting stronger every day. The good days are good and the bad days aren’t as bad.

How about I share some poetry today? I haven’t done that in a while. It’s not obtuse and scary, I promise.

I have trouble sleeping, as you know, so when I do sleep AND dream, it’s always a mishmash of thoughts. One night, I dreamt about my Mum, who passed on almost 5 years ago, which is INCREDIBLE to believe! I remember waking up and being so grateful I had that dream because I got to see her again. That dream was the inspiration for this poem.

I’m not sad today, I’m okay. I just wanted to share this, that’s all!

Happy Monday!

V

*******

In my dreams

You visit me in my dreams.

Only for a little while,

I see you again.

I missed your face, Mummy.

Time has gone by.

Time, it marches on.

Even though the hole

In my toughened heart

Is as big as the Bermuda Triangle,

My feelings confused and lost.

I drift along.

In my dreams,

You are happy.

I am happy to see you.

You look well.

I hear your laughter.

You see my sadness.

I missed your face, Mummy.

Aside

Ponder this…..

Behind every sunshiny smile is

sadness, disappointment, fear,

loneliness, despair, anger,

and thoughts of inadequacy

in varying amounts.

Waiting.

Waiting.....

I sit here…

I took Kidlet to public skating last night. I don’t skate, I sit and freeze while I watch him fall 100 times. (Sigh!) When there, this family caught my eye.

From my observation, I was able to assess that it was a man, his daughter and his girlfriend. I heard him refer to the woman by her name, not “Mum”. I think it was his idea to go skating because I also heard the females mumble about being nervous and him saying, “Don’t worry! I’ll help you.” He helped them both get their skates on and made sure the laces were tight enough. The daughter was wearing protective gear, so it was probably her first time out on the ice.

Anyway, with my little eye, I watched them interact. He held his daughter’s hand while she tried to skate, and the girlfriend, who was shaky, did her own thing around them – close by but not interfering. He clearly has been skating many times before because he skated backwards in front of his daughter and scraped the ice with his skates ahead of her to slow her down while he held her hands. The daughter fell down a few times, the girlfriend skated over and they both dusted her off and then she skated off, leaving dad and daughter to continue their lesson.

I looked at them, each playing their role: him, dutiful, proud, patient parent; happy, loved child; respectful, content partner. I sat in the stands and tears (which came out of nowhere, by the way) slowly ran down my face.

I wrote this poem last summer and it speaks to how I felt last night.

Waiting

I think of you

on rainy Saturdays

when the light has faded in my room

and loneliness comes.

I think of you

living your life

making sandwiches for work

driving to the movies

oblivious

that our paths will converge.

But maybe

you are not oblivious

maybe you are thinking about me too

while I’m living my life

shopping for shoes

making lasagna

In the meantime,

I will think of you

and wait.

I will think of you

and wait

until we find each other.