Music of the stars

Insomnia called my name so loudly no part of me would sleep,
Opened my window in hope the pre-dawn air would defeat him.
My eyes looked out at the view I painted afresh every morning,
But something was different this time as no birds were singing.
I scanned up, left to right as though looking in a word search,
In that moment the stage curtain went up to begin the show.
Then the first few began to appear like in Cats the musical,
Crawling out in song throughout the different parts of the sky.
 
Ursa Major led the way front of stage with her distinct patterns,
Like the lead actress that everyone would know the name of.
She was joined by a chorus of other constellations in singing,
As I watched and listened to the musical of the morning sky.
Gemini and Leo sang a duet of friendships and partnerships,
Which reminded me of close friends that bare those signs.
No cameras recorded it but all the atoms of my body danced,
I felt privileged l was watching a secret screening of this show.
 
Slowly one by one their songs were done and sky went dim,
And a cold breeze touched me all over like the fat lady’s finale.
I took my old blanket from my bed to wrap myself up for sleep,
Shutting my window to a view now forever covered in glitter.
Lying down I felt like the mire from the week now drift away,
Freeing from the pains and worries that had made me cry.
I shut my eyes afresh knowing I had survived another week,
A fresh chapter had begun but must sleep for the next page.
 
© Fi S. J. Brown

Just Talk

We all have good days and bad days, but it sometimes feels like there are more bad than good until every day is like living at constant night with no light of the moon to give us hope and no stars bursting through to guide our passage. We may try to explain these feelings to family and friends, but ignored by some, laughed at by others, and may even be the source of the darkness themselves. It can feel like there is nobody to talk to as too, as others are too busy living their lives or understands quite why we feel the way we do. So inside we slowly die, but outside wear a mask or three to hide the pain or go unnoticed by others as see no physical change. Then that day comes, there seems to be only one answer, so take that white flag and raise it aloft to say…goodbye for the final time without even a whisper.

Suicide is still seen by many as a selfish act because of the action of taking our own lives and leaving behind many questions that will never get answers. However, few consider what led the person to reach that point or consider looking back there were signs but just did not see them, nor realise how something that left one person untouched traumatised another even decades on. From personal experience, wanting to wave that flag is not an easy option, it is how lonely and actually quite terrifying as realise inside is shattered in pieces and unlike a jigsaw there is no way to put them together again. Mental health is something we must talk about not push under a rug, drug until we can no longer feel or lock people up in hospitals as may hurt us (but really more of a danger to themselves than others).

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day so lets talk not about others with judgement or hate but together in supportive empathy and love. Make time to talk with those that matter to us, even if it is only five minutes, as those five minutes may form a quarter moon or even let the stars shine just for that day. To those that feel it is another of the black days, take this stardust and sprinkle it everywhere you walk, the white flag does not need to be raised. Remember that the past is gone and cannot be change, but yes it may hurt like anything even now in ways that others may never see or hear. Equally, the future is a whisper and never a promise, so make that first step today, as soon you’ll have crossed more than you ever thought we would. Today is all we have, so make the most of it. So lets talk about anything to everything.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Being Bald

It all started with these patches,
And brown strands on my pillow.
Tears fell like a blues harmonica,
And my words became lost at sea.
At that moment a freak was born,
Not yet thirteen and I was bald.

At school I wore a wig with a band,
And felt their eyes burning in green.
Depression suffocated me inside,
And yet outside no blood would fall.
Scarred forever when the wind blew,
And they laughed at me being bald.

By university it had gone all over,
And no funeral pyre or wake held.
So I grew to loathe how I looked,
And felt I had no human worth.
For who would love such a freak,
And just like an ogre I was bald.

Years passed until therapy begun,
And joined the dots with words.
Taking photographs was some fun,
And then I took that first selfie.
Forced to see my reflection a new,
And saw a woman, scared and bald.

That began the journey to find me,
And remove the ogre forevermore.
Realising the lab was far from me,
And wondering just where did I fit.
As I heard that bird sing in a tree,
And wished to be as free not bald.

Switching test tubes for Biro pens,
And microscope for camera lenses.
I discovered the woman I am within,
And found a rag doll not an ogre be.
Now I accept with kindness and love,
And being bald is just part of being me.

© Fi S. J. Brown