A Year Of Ballerina Tea And Vodka

Mary Oliver, "October." Devotions

Men and what doesn't belong to them

The price tag is at $30, too overpriced for a simple doll

The sky is pitch black by the time I leave the mall, my hands empty-handed and freezing

A breeze of air sends strands of hair onto my face

A buzz emerges from my back pocket

Where are you?

I turn off the screen, I can't be seen distracted, especially at night

It's like my mom's warnings are screeching against my ear

She tells me of men who hide in dark alleyways, biting like dogs at woman's feet

She reminds me of how my cousin was dragged by one of those dogs, how her eyes don't glow like they used to

She walked too much like a woman, that's why they caught her, she tells me

Because they can't blame her for her baggy clothing

But how do I tell her that my father is like those men?

Pulling her wherever he pleases, dressing her how he sees fit

It's as if the wedding certificate, buried inside a memory box, is the same thing as the receipt that's pushed by the wind

I walk briskly under the street lights, my heart beats loudly every time a car slows down

Even if I'm in the middle of a crowd, it'll only give me the illusion of safety

I wonder if my friend felt helpless, as my 4th grade teacher hugged her tightly, knowing everyone's eyes were on her

I heard of a story on the radio with my grandma once, of a woman who was sold as a child to a much older man

She sighed. Thank God, we aren't in that wretched country anymore.

I couldn't find it in me to tell her that this happens everywhere, even in the safety of a “first world country”

I look at his message one last time, knowing I'll never see his picture again

If you don't answer this time, I swear I'll ki—

I should have known that he was like every man, poor, rich, old, and young, with what doesn't belong to him

The hopes in her

heart fell asleep

when the pain

broke her dawn

and the blush

of the clouds

dissipated

into quicksand

as laughter died

on her lips while

her radiant colors

dimmed as she

closed her wings

in a cocoon of

bleeding silence

healing to

be reborn love

once more

praying only

for life

to kiss her

light once

again

-J.Wool, Light Once Again

📷 from Pinterest

I learned not to trust people; I learned not to believe what they say but to watch what they do. I learned to suspect that everyone is capable of living a lie. I came to believe that other people - even when you think you know them well - are ultimately unknowable.

Lynn Barber

“I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.”

— Unknown

“Why not take a chance and bet on happiness?”

— Jenny Han

salma deera

Mary Oliver, from “Hum Hum”, A Thousand Mornings

“I forgive people but that doesn’t mean I accept their behavior or trust them again. I forgive them for me, so I can let go and move on with my life.”

— Unknown

“Today is a wonderful day, an avalanche of light and I would like to stand with you in this rain of sunshine, to flow together, to melt into it… in mornings like this, life roars within me.”

—

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 13, 1950 [#128]

(via acknowledgetheabsurd)