~ Written by Danielle N. Bilski ~

Smudged

Sometimes three months of stress is relentless,
with a list of priorities all competing to be first I address.

I have cared for a teething now-eighteen week old puppy,
and resigned from a cafe job where I made mug after mug of great coffee.

Adjusting to five AM early rises and ‘good night’ at nine,
in a middle-of-summer heatwave keeping us all hiding inside.

This heart still leaking grief for a dog we recently lost,
in relationships strained by how much living now costs.

Distanced from friends to minimise sharing my damage,
monthly therapy for this messy mind I am struggling to manage.

Three birthdays, Christmas, New Year, and cousin’s birth missed with family in another state,
and I am not sure anymore how to connect with any parts of my life that remain.

I read and watch, clean, care and think, listen, feel and then sleep,
and not much energy has been free to enjoy my interests or capture these lessons creatively.

I have tried to look at my life from different angles in search of light and love,
and someday this phase will be more than an indecipherable existence of feeling irreversibly smudged.

©2024 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Grey ocean (Paper clocks)

How did I,
say goodbye and now,
continue this life,
when I held you,
in my arms for your final moment,
graced by calm?

I am in awe,
of a quiet fortitude as I try,
to survive losing you,
and these words,
an inadequate capture cannot piece together,
our symbiotic bond that has shattered.

I am wondering,
when words will,
matter again,
and colours,
can continue creating,
true impressions.

I am living,
mere moments masquerading meaning,
by relation,
and playing,
puzzling poetic profundity,
with alliteration.

My sight,
lost luminosity like links,
of chain,
since grief,
etiolated elocutions eventually emulating,
a grey ocean.

I am discovering,
soft strength stored safely,
within my remains,
and imagination,
transformed through time transcends,
a world forever changing.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Seeds, sticks, sparks and carved hearts

Seeds can become poisonous weeds,
or bright fruitful blooms,
sticks can be broken in half,
or provide shelter and support the growth of many leaves.
Sparks can turn into consuming flames that burn to the ground in their wake,
or keep us warm and alight the path through a fog,
and we each carry our unique heart that may crack or shatter,
and it still sustains us, whether we are aware of its beat or not.

Whenever I write,
I am mindful,
to stay optimistic,
and now I will tell you why.
It does not mean that pain and I,
are not well acquainted,
or that I have not lived with it,
I just choose not to let it rule my daily life.

Oh, it is true, I was there and only nineteen the night,
that he found her on the floor,
and I am finding it hard to write more about that,
words fail me now or perhaps this failure is mine.
I mean, you get the picture, don’t you?
Although she tried, I am happy to say,
she is still here with us today,
and I have not seen her lately, she has a part of me.

So much has happened in my life since that moment,
and sometimes it feels overwhelming,
when I am holding a pen,
to face any of it over, over and over again.
It is no secret, we are only human,
and I think I want to go back a line to move the word only,
because not only have we survived,
I have discovered I am always mindful enough to find our guiding lights.

Seeds, sticks, sparks and even carved hearts,
do everything they can to thrive,
and the only way to make you notice them,
is to write with my focus on the miracle of every form of intelligent life.
We are one, from tiny flowers to tallest trees,
elemental fire ignites with the same air we all breathe,
and as some choose to feed the carvers attempting to destroy us,
I choose to grow gratitude for every hearts’ endless capacity to love and adapt, no matter what happens.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Great imagining

I am a light,
in spite of my invisible scars,
filled with sharp shards,
I now accept as precious parts of me.

Abstract brushstrokes,
of temporary minerals,
have crumbled before I hung,
my masterpiece on a wall.

I am a life,
weaved of many painful battles,
as thrilling wonders take shape,
all creations from my great imagining.

I have lived,
in unexpected twists,
and epic adventures left me victorious,
over those vicious adversaries.

A shimmer of starlight like glitter,
welcome a rising super moon,
on the horizon of a beautiful lilac lagoon,
as I linger upon sweet serenity.

I am pure love,
and a deepest truth,
a higher force and I will never be destroyed,
for you see, I am the author.

I am your life,
and you are a survivor of every breakage,
as you awaken,
a creator of this great imagining.

Next in this series is 214. Seeds, sticks, sparks and carved hearts.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Two year glitch (Paper clocks)

Trapped between a crocodile’s teeth,
feel them slowly release,
a glimpse of freedom,
a moment to breathe in.

. . . . . in progress . . . . .

Next in this series is 213. Great imagining.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Tiny universe

We were there,
at the beginning,
even though,
we cannot remember,
the moment of creation,
our birth,
perfect,
as a tiny universe.

A miracle,
by no coincidence,
every atom obeys a greatest purpose,
higher source in omniscience,
cycles,
never quite the same twice,
intricate systems,
as the very first lovers of our powerfully-delicate life.

Material memories,
become a sensory recognition,
of existence,
we only know from our position within,
as physics and biology elude us,
we believe clever illusions,
as a tiny universe,
with awareness invaded by confusion.

. . . . . in progress . . . . .

Next in this series is 212. Two year glitch.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Eleven. Twelve

Nobody quite asked,
how she felt inside,
and did anybody actually learn,
what he really thought about being alive?

Somewhere a clock ticks.
Eleven. Twelve.

Of course we can miss,
what has gone,
but sometimes we dismiss,
every sign of something being very wrong.

Everywhere November has become December again.
Eleven. Twelve.

Please know we do not blame you,
we promise it is not your fault,
if you have not been taught the language,
you are unlikely to alter the path another human is on.

Somewhere a child’s birthday is celebrated.
Eleven. Twelve.

We have all called ourselves,
by unspeakable names,
our only choice now,
is to invent a new game.

Someone has grown a foot taller.
Eleven. Twelve.

We have already counted,
millions of hours by eleven and twelve,
forget another year, before the end of this page,
we face our inner self.

We have all taken a step forward now.
Eleven. Twelve.

Although I know it is too late,
to extend their lifetimes,
may we honour every one of them by moments,
we grow through the rest of our own lives.

Be kind to yourself with every breath,
my friend.
Eleven. Twelve.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Release your shadow

Ok, here we go,
it is time for this show of truth to begin,
because noone really knows,
when it will be over for us.

We can try anything to make it seem slower,
or take risks that are even bolder,
but the outcome is always the same,
as it is just an ending by a different name.

Time goes on regardless,
and while some ill intentions may seem harmless,
a steady malevolent intervention,
continues to discourage us from our divinely-guided ascension.

So, here we go, my friend.
Are you prepared to release your shadow yet?
You might not have realised it was always there,
causing all of this pain, drowning your open heart in despair.

I promise if we do it together,
we will become brighter than we could have ever dreamed,
because I have seen glimpses of our light,
between every space dividing the real you from the real me.

This leads me to question,
if we are given an opportunity,
to make something more beautiful,
why wouldn’t we?

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Peripheral passenger

How others view me,
and how I think of myself,
confuses me every time,
I try to find a place that is mine.

Do I stand out,
because I do not fit in,
or am I in a blind spot constantly hidden,
like a chameleon?

Tell me, why do I feel guilt,
when I say yes,
when I really want to say no,
but I don’t?

I am learning how to be kind,
to my fragile parts,
as in that moment,
it feels like I undermined my growth.

It is easy to live unseen,
by whoever is in the driver’s seat,
with a safety belt fastened tightly holding you back,
as one of life’s peripheral passengers.

I observed the world blur by,
remaining a driven quiet-achiever,
never in control of the speed,
but always arriving somewhere I was needed.

I have aimed to please others,
since I was a developing tiny human,
and being seen came from anothers’ approval,
which meant I neglected my personal truths.

I sat in that seat with the same view,
for so long my internal navigation was ignored,
I had forgotten what I actually believe,
we can always choose to fly free.

Alone on an open unmarked road I decided,
I will no longer faithfully acquiesce,
trying to please everyone I meet,
now you can only feel me briefly as the light unyielding breeze.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N Bilski ~

Obsidian armour

From being both someone who has been in deep emotional pain, and someone who has witnessed another human suffering in the same way, what I have learnt, is that the kindest thing you can do, for those people you love, if not for your own wellbeing, is to empty out the place you carry it all, often, into a space where, as soon as you think or write, say or erase the words, the feeling disipates.

Waiting for it to overflow at full capacity, or when the walls crumble under such suppressed pressure, it is also burning and drowning those around you, like scalding waves of volcanic lava, which cools to become your obsidian armour, a fragile fascade that shatters like glass, and we think is protecting us, from hurting even more.

Actually, it is exactly what it preventing us, from experiencing life as a beautiful joy, as we were born to do, if we remain light and open and loving, because now I understand why that is our choice too.

Being unburdened is possible, when we learn how to let go of what drains us, things we often do not want to face, but are continuing to do us harm, as they scream for attention, they did not receive, when we were all focused on simply containing the bleeding, and accidentally trapped poison underneath, where it is still spreading, unseen.

The spaces I choose to empty myself of pain, and any poison inside of me, is by writing down words like these, in hope of sharing the lessons from my story, and releasing my thoughts onto a white wall in regular sessions of talk-therapy.

All I ask, brave warrior, is for you to break through this obsidian armour, to discover that your battle against yourself is finally over.

©2023 Danielle N Bilski