Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Museum of my heart

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The museum of my heart is full of rooms

that describe me

but do not define me.

Walls painted with joy and pain.

Hung with the memories

of family and friends and lovers.

Floors set with mistakes and successes

Ceilings lit with laughter and love.

This museum of my heart is not a place of glass cases,

where you look but do not touch.

It is a place of discovery,

where every corner is interactive

and rooms are added

continuously.

A growing archive

to how deeply I live

and to how profoundly I love.

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced


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Blood and beauty

Blood and beauty

and how we fall

with the jagged edges of life

softened with love

or meticulously opening

a vein

leaving us ashen

with blood loss

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced.


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A kiss away

The task, as she sees it,

is to rename,

to redefine

all she knows of love.

Where once she bled 

profusely

from the blithe cuts given to her heart and soul,

she needs no bandage in this,

her new reality

where she chooses the meaning for words

that have lost their luster,

words that never meant what they should have.

Transformation is a kiss away

and the eyes she needs to see her

are his.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

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

All rights reserved

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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Letting go

Letting go isn’t giving up. It isn’t failing. It’s making an investment in your future. But we get stuck, do we ever. We cling to that which isn’t making us better, or whole. We do this because we still love the other person, or we’re scared, or nostalgic, or stubborn, or many other reasons. The why isn’t important, it’s what you do after you understand the why that matters.

It takes enormous effort to make that decision, to take those first steps and embark upon that path. But once you get over the pain of ripping off the band aids you have painstakingly applied for years, it becomes freeing. And that is a surprise itself.

Amid the pain and sadness, and yes, grieving, there is a lightness. Perhaps it is confidence that the right decision has been made, or maybe it’s because we are no longer in limbo. Going through each day, seeing a very different future on the horizon, but taking no steps toward it weighed us down. Our progress was inhibited. There was no forward momentum. When you are stuck like that, feelings fester and feel tight beneath the skin.

Letting go is hard and often it is a decision you know must be made, but reconciling heart and head can take time. We step around the minefields, we navigate our pain, until we know we are strong enough to tackle it head on. And when that happens, we loosen the tether that has held us in place, that has kept us from living our lives fully. There is a freedom in realizing and believing that within every ending is a new beginning.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

Photograph by Manon Rousseau (edited)


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The first face

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She was the first face I saw.

I fell in love

But didn’t know it.

Those hazel eyes gazing down at me

Soothing my abrupt entrance

Into a much colder world

Than the one I had existed in

For months.

I quickly came to realize

That she was my world.

Her beloved countenance

Changing over the years

But always

Full of love

Full of pride.

She has been

My teacher

My cheerleader

My taskmaster

My confidante.

Providing an example

Of what to strive for

Being supportive of the choices I made

Even ones that she knew would hurt me

Assuring me

That kindness doesn’t make one weak

And always making it clear

That the world was my oyster

That I alone could make my world

What I wished it to be.

I have been so lucky

To have had such a wonderful person

To guide my days

To know unconditional love and acceptance.

Recently I was reminded of a song

That was always hers and mine.

My mother

My friend.

You and me against the world.

A mother’s love

A sacred thing.

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*This is not the first nor even the second time I’ve posted this but on this day, the birthday of the most amazing and loving person that I know, I felt it fitting.

©SirenSong1208

Photo taken from Pinterest, unsourced