Posted in Creative Writing

Same Soul

I sometimes wonder
if we aren’t simply the same soul
wrapped in different bodies

Posted in Creative Writing


I gathered up my courage
like the old neon pink shoelaces
I used to tie in my hair
when I was thirteen and happier

and careless

At the bottom of a drawer,
they’d fade and gather dust.
You see, grown-ups don’t wear
shoelaces in their hair.

Grown-ups aren’t careless.

So, I gathered up my shoelaces
and strung them through my sneakers
because it takes courage
to walk in these shoes.

At the bottom of a drawer,
I left my cares to gather dust
and stepped through the front door
on a very long walk.

Posted in Creative Writing


pedestals were built for you
but you never stood there long

you chose the sturdy earth
and an ocean of unfamiliar faces
to make yourself at home
you embraced us as friends
dear to your guileless heart
close as family
more precious than gold

Posted in Creative Writing

An Unexpected Role Model

My sister is fourteen.

She laughs without reserve,
loves deeply and sincerely
and always tells you what’s on her mind.

She never apologises
for loving the things she loves,
even if people think her strange for it.

She has embraced herself wholeheartedly,
inhabited herself unapologetically.

I aspire to be like her.
Without reservation.

The funny thing is, she doesn’t even know
that just by existing,
she’s made me a better person.

Posted in Creative Writing


I was sitting in an open field picking flowers and writing down my plans for escape when the fog rolled in. I’d never seen anything like it. Black and thick as tar, it obscured every hill and home in sight. Just like that, the little village I’d grown up in and everything I’d known since I was a child, disappeared from view.

There was no way to call for help, no chance of navigating through the ever-growing ocean of darkness. I could barely move. My lungs were on fire as if I’d inhaled smoke. My body became as heavy and useless as a sack of flour.

As I lay there in despair, I wondered how long it would take for this pulsating creature of darkness to reach my home and engulf my family. Or would it reach them?

My mother used to read me a story about a little girl who dishonoured her family, chasing fanciful dreams and telling tall tales. One night, as the girl prepared to run away from home and join the traveling theatre she was surrounded by a thick and impenetrable darkness.

It stole her soul.

Perhaps those bedtime stories were true. I always knew someday I’d have to atone for my crimes. There is no room in this world for whimsical dreams and grand schemes. I should have listened to my mother and done the dishes and cleaned my room and married Mr Wood like I was told.

Ah well… I suppose it’s too late now. I’m being erased.