Siren Whispers

Siren Song



Caution is her mantra.

There is nothing quite like losing yourself

in feeling

in desire

in love,

but the path she’s on requires a spine of steel

and an open heart.

It also requires bravery 

in putting herself first.

Walls are created

 brick by brick

and they must come down in the same fashion.

Well, hers must in any case.

A dismantling that is slow,

brick by brick.

Each one replaced

with something she was missing.




There will be no rapid pull down of the wall,

à la Berlin,

but rather a slow chipping away at the defenses she erected

to protect her tender heart.



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Photograph by SirenSong1208


Of wave and water


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He said her eyes were exceptional,

like her.

Beautiful and bewitching,

the kind that made you look

and look again,

only longer.

Eyes the color of the sea

when it’s a swirling mass

of wave and water,

the deep

churned up to reveal

what is below the surface.

Windows to her soul?


Maybe not.

But these eyes,

he knew,

were a tempest

framed by sooty lashes,

and he always loved a good storm.


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2018




When something is at an end, deep inside you know.

The end credits may not yet be rolling,

but FIN is upon the screen in your mind regardless.

What can you do but immerse yourself in grace,

swallow disappointment and pain,

whether vague

because of the length of time it took to slowly and coldly unravel,

or as an immense lump in your throat

that you cannot get down because it is already clogged with hot, wet tears.

Grace means finding the best of what was

so that anger, hurt, fear

does not close the doors of your heart permanently.

It means being true to yourself

and using that as a guide to how you respond,

regardless of how you were treated.

You may never have answers as to the why of it

and there may never be any vindication for what has come before,

but grace means letting go and making your peace with that, 

and knowing you are better for it.


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photography by SirenSong1208



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It has been seventeen weeks, five days and one hour since you told me. Since my world shifted on its axis. Since our lives were changed, permanently. 

But who’s counting?

I am asked by family and friends how I am dealing with it. If I have gotten used to it, accepted it. There is never just one answer. It is too complex for that. Indeed, it is too complex for words on most days. 

I tell them that I accepted it the moment that I was told.  And I did.  How could I not?  There was never ever a question that I wouldn’t.  But my heart grieved.  For what was lost.  For what would be irrevocably changed.  But most of all, for the burden that was carried, silently and alone, for too long.  My head accepted it.  I was rational and logical.  But the heart does not know nor does it understand those words.  And though there is unconditional love and acceptance, there is more than one layer to ‘getting used’ to something.  The head always wraps itself around a problem, a situation, a change, more readily than does a heart. 

Hearts have a long memory.

So my answer to that well meaning and concerned question was ‘yes, I’ve gotten used to it’ and ‘no, you never get used to it’.  And both answers are true.  Perhaps one day I can say that I am well and truly used to it, but I don’t know that that is possible.  There are too many memories, 15 years worth, to believe that there will never be a day that I am not jolted back in time or that my heart won’t feel a twinge at what will never be. 

But for now I just accept each day as a gift.  One more day that, if things had been different, I might not have had.  And I know how lucky I am.


*Written a year ago to the day. Still relevant as my new normal continues to take shape. As the tides rise and the sands shift, every day there is learning and acceptance and gratitude. But even on my best days there is still grief for what has been lost and an exhaustion with a climb that will never plateau.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208


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Empty forests


The empty forests of my mind

Are filled with trees that touch the sky

With dappled shade and secrets

And beginnings and ends

Of boughs and branches

Filled with thoughts and plans

Ones that I’ve had

And ones that are in bloom

But there are others

Those that are in their infancy

Newly seeded

Awaiting optimum conditions

And time

For growth

The sun, the rain, the air, the soil

Working together

Bringing to fruition

This vivid and verdant path

That I am meant to walk upon


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208


Cemetery secrets


Cemetery secrets

Spread from head to toe

As deathlike quiet descends

Upon the landscape of my corporeal being

From thoughts that linger like an opaque mist

Clouding judgement

Clarity becoming a haze that we cannot see through

To ribs caging a heart grown quiet

Stilled and dormant

Shackled without cause

Seeking answers to questions that will never be answered

Every twilight she locks them away.

The gates closed

As she waits

for the dawn

And release


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208; Glendalough, Ireland



Not a girl of summer

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I am not a girl of Summer

though the sea runs through my veins

and I would happily swim from dawn to dusk.

I am not a Coppertone baby with flowing yellow hair

golden strands gleaming in the sun

a perfection of tan skin and white smiles.

I am a girl of Autumn, of Winter

burnished leaves and snowy landscapes 

my favourite haunts

books and fires and sweaters and long walks 

my pleasures.

I am the pale girl

with hair the brown of a sable coat

soft and rich and full of depth.

But it is when its copper threads catch the sun


that you get a hint of 

the fiery and passionate nature

oft hidden 

revealed to very few

known only to one


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208