When my sister is mean to me,
I remember some of the kind words you have said to me,
And I feel a whole lot better knowing
There is someone who values me.
When my sister is mean to me,
I feel like I'm on a war zone,
Except I am no soldier, I've never had training
And I don't know how to protect myself from the danger.
Her words are like bullets,
Coming at me at full speed with intense anger
I barely have time to take cover
The bullets hit - I was not ready for this.
She walks away, completely unharmed
While I'm still standing, but dying inside
I retreat, wobbly and weak,
And cry in silence the pain of which I do not speak.
It is there, when my heart is aching
That the memories of your kindness come back to me
And they like a balm soothe the wounds
Some of which have been bleeding for many years.
There is someone who has never hurt me
And someone who never will
And when at times I wish I didn't exist
This person makes me want to live.
Thank you for bringing me light
Whenever I am attacked.
“is it okay if i sit here?”
As she walked into the restaurant, she anxiously scanned the room to find at which table the group was to be seated. Further to the back, she spotted a long table, and no sooner had she seen it that her eyes fell upon him. So he had arrived before her this time. To her relief, there was an empty chair next to him.
She made her way over to this empty chair and took a deep breath.
“Is it okay if I sit here?”
He turned towards her and glanced up at her from behind his glasses. His face, kind and friendly like always, showed neither surprise nor excitement. He was his typical calm self.
“Please – go ahead,” he answered as he pushed the chair for her to sit on.
She sat down, feeling unreasonably happy and content with the situation. To be in his vicinity, that fulfilled her enough, quite enough. His mere presence impacted her to such a degree that they did not even have to speak. It felt to her like his golden aura was seeping into hers, filling her up with joy and peace with each passing moment. How safe and comfortable it was, to receive the warm energy of his spirit, without having to make any eye-contact!
There was a slight problem which she had not foreseen: the jubilation she felt in his close company, she had to conceal. It was unthinkable that anyone near them should notice any changes in her countenance, and make any guesses as to the reason. It was unthinkable that her outward appearance should reveal the magic happening inward. No, it was unthinkable that anyone should ever know the depth of the love in her heart. So she showed no traces of it: her smile was consciously adjusted to not take up too much room on her face; the energy of life she was receiving was kept in her innermost being, while on the outside she remained as calm as ever; she spoke to him only when required, keeping compliments and tender words in her mind. She gave nothing of her joy away – the whole night, it remained a secret.
My heart is greedy:
It always wants more of you.
It is never quite satisfied
When fed with a word, a look or a smile.
It hungers for something
filling, hearty, and comforting.
A conversation, a connection
Closeness, intimacy.
This diet of you would keep my heart healthy,
For it would be full of love, and so happy.
that’s all i came here for.
Hesitatingly (for she had never done this before) she made her way towards his desk. She had noticed him there on her arrival in the building, and she longed to see him, to be physically a little closer to him, and perhaps even share a few words. She felt herself getting shy as she came nearer to the desk, and felt guilty for interrupting his workflow. Nevertheless, she forced these feelings away until she was standing behind, and slightly to the side of, him.
“Hello?” she breathed out, afraid that he might not hear her.
But he swivelled in the chair at the sound of her voice, and she found herself looking into his very blue eyes. She stood speechless for a moment.
“Hello,” he replied with a smile and raised eyebrows, evidently surprised to see her there. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, her gaze dropping to her black shoulder-bag, which had one of its handles missing. “No actually – I just came to say hello and wish you a good day.” She internally cringed at her pathetic confession, and yet she could not help saying them, for she so dearly had wanted to see him, and so dearly wanted him to have a good day.
“Oh – well – thank you – yes, I am having a good day, thank you.” He smiled at her but she did not see, her gaze still resting on her bag.
“That’s good. That’s all I came here for.” She readjusted her bag on her shoulder and pulled her hair from under the strap. “Good-bye then!” Her eyes met his again, and she smiled too.
“See you later,” he said, still somewhat astonished at her unexpected appearance and even more unexpected words. He observed her make her way out of the room in her typical discreet way, and it was a few seconds before he turned his chair back to his desk and to his work.
constant communication.
I communicate with you constantly: if not out loud, then in my thoughts; if not in my thoughts, then in my imagination; if not in my imagination, then in my dreams. There is not a moment I am disconnected from you. I speak to you all the time in my heart, so much that I no longer know what I have, and have not, said out loud to you. I wish to empty myself into the beautiful container that is your soul. Oh, I may speak so little to you – but how much I am always telling you!
imaginary conversation.
They stood fairly close to one another: if they but slightly extended their arms, their hands would most surely touch. However they did no such thing, and only stood calmly with this short comfortable distance between them.
“Thank you for playing on Sunday,” he went first, “I see you got some nice feedback!”
“Yeah, everyone is so nice! I enjoyed playing – it was fun!”
Whilst he had no trouble looking at her with his ever-kind gaze, her eyes darted up and down, occasionally meeting his for a moment.
“Thank you for the Locus Iste. I was so excited to sing it!”
He let out his signature sigh (the one that seemed to communicate something he was not saying out loud) before replying with, “It is a gorgeous piece of music”.
She nodded with a smile, but her silence suggested she meant to say something else. (He was beginning to understand now how it was always when she got quiet that she most wanted to speak). So he remained standing next to her, waiting.
“Thank you for that Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago. I had a very pleasant time.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he responded, “I had a pleasant time as well.”
She met his gaze then, as if the honesty of his confession could only be checked and trusted by the look in his eyes. She was not particularly surprised to see that his eyes were clear and calm, and not afraid of her. There was after all a part of her deep down that trusted him. Only that part was so deep inside of her that she did not always have access to it, as if she had trouble believing in something she already believed. As such she continually needed the reassurance and evidence that he could be trusted.
Looking down again she cleared her throat. In a gentle, soft voice, he heard her say:
“I like how much we thank each other … I think – I think it’s a beautiful thing.”
She lifted her eyes once more, at the same time lifting her hand and placing it over her heart, and gave him a smile that seemed as happy as it seemed sad. But the eye-contact was soon broken as her eyes were beginning to water.
“Have a good day,” she said before giving him the chance to respond, and walking away from him with a small but quick step.
honest conversation.
She wanted, and was considering how, to express herself. She had bluntly blurted out that there was something she wished to speak to him about, and now that he sat quietly, expectantly, she knew not what to say first. All the words she had rehearsed in her mind for weeks no longer sounded appropriate or worthy of being spoken. All the ideas she had prepared now crowded her thoughts all at once that she could not choose over another to communicate first. There was indeed so much she longed to tell him and yet nothing was coming out, as if all her feelings were like a bone she had swallowed such a long time ago that it was more comfortable now to live with it than to try spit it out.
“I just feel so …” she started, trying to spit out this bone, “uncertain of myself …”
She went quiet again, as if having said that one sentence had taken a lot out of her, and she required rest.
“I don’t see why you should be – you’re an accomplished young woman.”
She met his gaze then and smiled. He really did always have something nice to say.
“Well,” she began to reply, feeling like they had conversed enough about her and it was now time to change topics, “that’s because I have people like you who inspire me.”
He looked down and slightly sideways with something halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
“I don’t consider myself inspirational … I’m just bumping along …”
She regarded him tenderly, and knew he spoke honestly: that it was not his aim in life to be inspirational. And it was therefore likely that he had never considered why he may in fact be. And that perhaps she could shed a light on this and let him know.
“I like how you treat people,” she stated simply but somewhat slowly, with the contradicting emotions of wanting to tell him the hundred reasons he was to her eyes the most amazing human being she knew, and the fear that he should know how much she adored him.
(this was a REAL conversation I had with someone. A truly special one because every sentence was an ever-continuing exchange of kindness back and forth)
Thought of the day.
Happiness always comes between us.
She makes me look at you, and when I do,
Love appears within me.
my very rare friend.
In the light of your friendship, I see the pain of my past, And I love myself a little more For having survived it. In the light of your friendship, My wounds reopen So they may heal a little better With the love you teach me To bestow on myself. And that is how I know You are a very rare friend.
Waiting patiently.
It was as I was struggling to find my words
That the quality of your friendship became clear:
Because you sat in silence, and waited patiently
Until I expressed myself, finally.
Words & Feelings 