These Skin and Bones – poem

I could write a million poems
Crafted carefully of words so old
Speak softly in the voice God gave
But still my truth would not be told

Some things we simply can’t convey
That dwell within our heart and soul
Pushed in this world, alone we bow
With endless longing to be whole

I heard her say that happiness
Is waking joyful to exist
Oh love – the only key to this
My eyes are shut when I am kissed

We’re people made of candle wax
Though light I shine is wasted here
I long to just be noticed too
I dance around but hide in fear

Let’s sing a pretty song to end
Sad notes and painful undertones
Hope someday through the mist of time
You’ll understand these skin and bones

The sleep clinic

So tonight I have to sleep with this thing on my wrist and finger, and then I have to return it to the hospital tomorrow morning. I also have to keep a sleep diary.

If this test doesn’t show anything up, apparently I will have to do a second test wearing something which resembles a suicide bomb. Yikes.

The reason is that they suspect I have sleep apnea, which to the heart is apparently the equivalent of running a marathon every night (without the fitness to go with it).

I don’t know if I have it, or some other sleep disorder. I just hope they find out what goes on in my sleep because waking up gasping for air every night is scary and I feel so tired and drained every day.

After an upsetting yesterday, which I won’t go into, today was so good. My mum was too unwell to celebrate mothers day until now, so finally we got out for a meal. It was a beautiful day and we were all enjoying it..

Out of the blue my brother said he had a ticket to go and see the ladyboys of bankok. I came up with every excuse, but they persuaded me to go. It was amazing and I had the best night I’d had in years. It was the first time I had danced and felt free in years. It a amazing

Tonight – SoundCloud

I have shared this before. I am going to get a new keyboard, I have had my current one for 20 years! This is one of the last songs written on the old keyboard..

Listen to Tonight by Estia #np on #SoundCloud

The Journey

The train left without me, I’m not sure where it was headed exactly.. but it seemed to be where everyone else wanted to go, so I tried to get on board. It was just too full and I couldn’t fit in. I found myself battered, bruised and thrown back out.

So there I stood confused amongst the dust that rose in its wake, abandoned on the empty platform as the train sped away. I stared briefly before composing myself and dusting myself down. That was when I could see that my destiny was to walk a slow and lonely journey without fellow travellers.

It dawned on me that although my way would be different from theirs – less certain and often quite exhausting – it may be that I was the lucky one. I would have time to see things of beauty that would whizz past their windows. I would be able to spare time to stop and help other lone travellers, and perhaps hear their unique stories. I would have time to love in a different way. And as I set off on my journey, I realised that my baggage would only hinder me, so I threw it away and travelled empty handed.. stripped back down to how I once had arrived. FREE