Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Red poppies

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Fields of red poppies

Litter the landscape of my soul

Composed bleeding

Never a mess to be found

Yet the color gives voice to pain

To the wrenching hurt

Of being meticulously cut

A thousand silent times

Never noticed

My face ashen

As pretty poetry takes

My life blood

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

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Artwork by Moey


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Drowning

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Pain doesn’t advance in degrees

It’s a sudden deluge that overtakes you

filling up your lungs

with every kind of darkness

and bile

My hand rises from below

feeble with exhaustion

as I try to find the strength to battle

drowning in what is

seeking to swim

in what will be

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**I initially posted this on Instagram but within a few moments it was deleted due to “Violation of community guidelines”. I’m not sure how they were violated as there is no revealing nudity nor anything explicit. Simply an artsy photograph I chose to use to articulate my writing.

Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208


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Quiet

There is a quiet that I love,

when all I hear is the ticking of the clock

and the lush sounds of birds awakening.

I’m left to my own thoughts,

allowing them to run free,

to go where they need to go.

Unbound.

That’s the kind of quiet I love.

It’s what I crave for my soul’s peace.

But there is another kind of quiet,

where the silence weighs heavily upon me

with loneliness.

The kind of quiet that is not chosen.

but rather imposed,

when your very existence is not acknowledged.

When you are immersed in that kind of quiet,

it feels less like a gift to yourself

and more like a sentence to be served out.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced


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Dad

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Our time together ended much too soon.

You were always there for me,

a strong, silent presence

protecting me

teaching me.

I was the little girl you had dreamed of and wanted for so long.

Your constant shadow when I was small.

I treasure the childhood I had,

the unconditional love and acceptance that helped mould me

into the woman I am today.

The belief in me that helped me see 

that I could do whatever I set my mind to.

But it was when I was an adult

that our relationship really bloomed and flourished.

My growing knowledge and experience

solidifying an already loving relationship with mutual respect.

I miss you every day now that you are gone.

So much of my life you have not shared in,

except in my whispers.

I love you Dad.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photo taken from Pinterest, unsourced.

*More than twenty years gone from this Earth but not a day goes by that I don’t think of him and imagine the conversations we would now have, the grandchildren who only know him by picture and my memories, and how I still, even after all this time, can remember his smile and his hugs and miss him all over again.

Those we love are in our hearts every day but for those we have lost the days that we would have officially celebrated them can be some of the most poignant. Happy Birthday Dad. xoxo


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Fading

I can see the light fading for her.

Imperceptibly, but still diminishing.

She clings to fragments of memory when the present repeatedly slips from her grasp.

Conversations become a loop from minute to minute, with different inflections from me in response to the same words.

I don’t like to think of that light, her light, being gone.

From my life, from the world.

The last several years have been an adjustment. 

The strong, constant light and warmth of my mothers love and support, the bedrock beneath my shifting shoals, has been absent.

Don’t get me wrong, I know she loves me beyond measure, but things are drastically different now. It’s a new normal for both of us. 

She is here, but she is not.

Not in any tangible way, not in the way my heart aches for.

I wish I could say I have handled it with grace, these changes to her. That I have been perfectly patient and understanding.

A paragon of virtue. A good daughter.

But the heart wants what it wants and I have wanted her in the way that I have always known. 

Her, the voice that softened the edges that cut, the embrace that made it better if only for a little while. The soft touch to my cheek and the bolstering words of ‘you’ve got this’.

Instead, I swallow those wants, pushing the jagged pieces back inside, slap a bandage on, and tell her everything is okay.

Even when it isn’t.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.


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Empty

There is silence,

so much silence.

Arms are empty,

as darkness settles upon us.

Days.

Nights.

Opaque.

There is no clarity,

only confusion and a deep sense

of grief.

The dreams I had have died,

long ago perhaps,

but I did not wish to believe it.

But now,

in the wake of things we still cannot comprehend,

there is pain

more loss

and a sense of two

who should be holding each other up

through the crashing waves

but who are adrift on this unknown sea

separately navigating each stormy swell

desperately seeking landfall

and an embrace that tells us

we are home.

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

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Art by Victor Bauer


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Innerchild

I used to keep her quiet,

shushing the giggle that would erupt easily.

Making her pay attention to serious things,

but always visiting her

whenever my soul needed recharging.

The path back to the purest part of me

was always there,

I just needed to take it,

and now it is the path I choose to travel.

She, the ideal companion on this road trip,

finding inspiration wherever she looks,

seeking the positive to gilt those melancholy clouds,

doing whatever her heart desires,

because life is short

and she doesn’t want to stop tasting

at one flavor.

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*Written over on Instagram for #innerchild prompt

Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208