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Late night thoughts – or the transience of being
I am inside out, out and about, without knowing where to go, because I cannot leave the bed.I am bound, bed-bound and don´t know for how long.Life has slowed down in the external sphere, but in here, inside me it is speeding speeding speeding up, until I run in circles and cannot fall asleep anymore.It´s…
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Fear poetry.
It is unspeakableUnscalableA wall, a block, a cold something in my stomachRight here, right there, under my heart, deep inside me. And how, I ask you, does one outrun oneself?Not at all, of course.So here I sit,With my fear. My fear and I are having a coffeeAnd a cake too(poppyseed and lemon)Because why not, what…
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A life in the margins or how to be present some of the time
Life becomes smaller, with the pain, it shrinks according to how bad it is today and what I have to be. Mother to children or just mother to cats? A friend, a daughter, an actual adult that needs to act as if all was normal normal normal. There´s so much nuance in it, some days…
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The days are long – meditations on motherhood
The days are longAnd the years are shortThey were right all alongAnd so wrong it pains me. I am longAnd short is my memoryOf the small horrorsIn the early years. Is there enough milkTo fill yet another bottle?Is there enough meTo soothe yet another tantrum? Is there ever, enough for me?To exist as a personI…
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Fractured poetry I -Migraine
No poetry today,Just the thrum- thrum- thrumming of painBehind my eyes, at the base of my skull, all over my being. No best-laid plans today,Only pressing painkillers out of blister stripsAnd calculating the time until the next. No me today,An abrupt erasure through the sudden onsetOf neon-coloured lightning in my brain. No words, no talks,…
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Meditations on tiredness and crumbly cookies
What do you do, when your energy is used up. What do you do, when your energy is used up and there is still day left and cats that need to be fed and children that need to be loved and you cannot even get up, because there is so much pain.And oh, the medication…
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The knife or how to rage
The day the rage came, was also the afternoon of my daughter’s seventh birthday. It had started attacking me earlier on, during a phone call of someone, who wished to gaslight me, insult me, control me, generally subject me to the psychological equivalent of pushing my face into the mud while sitting on my back.…
So bright you cannot see 