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The Gypsie’s Daughter

Beautiful…

The Gypsie's Daughter

Look into your family history, you will find patterns there-themes.

Movement, separateness, otherness, are ancient patterns in my family history, and without knowing it I have honored these themes with an almost religious zeal in the first 29 years of my life. Even my name means the wandering one.

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My great grandmother had to leave her village in the late 1800’s due to religious turmoil. She then left her religion too and converted to a whole new type of Islam. Her son, my Grandfather rebelled against her matriarchy in a really big way-she wanted him to be a “good man” like his father, and work the land. But he was a genius, literally. He got a dozen scholarships, studied law and eventually became a respected judge and poet. He too, like his mother before him, left his village, his family in the pursuit of himself. His son, my father, was…

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A Simple Question

Open Our Eyes

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I am sitting in absolute stillness and God speaking over me…it’s not the thunderous voice that so many describe…instead, it’s a whisper, a whisper that causes my rushing nature to resist the urge to move in the midst of my busyness.

And a voice, barely above a whisper cries out to me,

“have you seen how far I have brought you?”

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In another life

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Next time we’ll be
Eternal lovers
Twin stars tied
By mutual gravity

Maybe we’ll love
Like mother and son
Or get old together
Friends in our souls

Will it be your eyes
I’ll come across
A one second stumble
Into a timeless fall

Maybe next time
Means nothing at all
But I’ll dare to dream
Of a world of our own.

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(08/08)

Conflating Inglenook

If I had to describe how I‘m feeling, I‘d have a difficult time finding the right words. I suppose it‘s like everything is too much. The people around me, the sounds surrounding me, the thoughts inside of my head, the screaming, the whispering, the stares, the walls of my room.

I feel trapped.

I feel like everything is closing in on me, and I‘m having a difficult time trying to breathe, to not feel like these lungs are filled with nothing but sadness that‘s slowly but surely trying to suffocate me. Maybe I need to go away for awhile, but to be honest, changing the location probably wouldn‘t do me any good either. What use would it be to run away if my demons still clung to me like a second skin? What use does fighting have if hopelessness is the only thing that‘s running through my veins?

Exhaustion is…

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