My Writings

Broken Hearted

She knocked on the door. She sensed the passing of time, eyes downcast, before the door opened. Embraced in a hug she felt a shiver run through her and retuned the hug.

‘Come inside, I’ll get you some tea. When was the last time you ate?’ she looked up unsure of the answer, before she had a chance to respond, ‘I’ll make us some lunch. Sit down in front of the fire to get warm.’

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been warm. Was it this morning in bed or was it the last time they woke up together, happy and safe in his love for her. Had she ever felt the true warmth of love?

Making her way to the chair closest to the fire she sat and wrapped herself in the purple crocheted blanket that hung over the chair. It was a heavy blanket that clung to her body. The warmth enveloped her tiny frame, and she took a deep breath.

This house, the love and warmth she finally felt allowed the tears to flow that had been stored for days. She had been moving through her life since he left with no purpose or feeling. It was here in her friend’s house that brought it out. That gave her the space to feel again.

Her friend returned with a cup of tea and a sandwich, placing them both on a small table. She felt no need to speak, they let the silence that sat in the room take on the feelings coming from the woman in front of the fire.

Staring at the fire she cried, mourning the loss of her relationship, mourning the loss of the future they had planned together. They were not angry cries, there was no moaning, no screaming or lashing out. Just the quiet fall of tears.

It took some time until her tears ran dry. She turned her head to her friend who just smiled and nodded. She picked up the sandwich and tea. She had the sudden feeling of hunger and thirst. Finishing the meal quickly.

‘Would you like something else?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Okay.’

She turned back to the fire and watched the flames ebb and flow, spark and dance among the logs. She saw the oranges and yellows with a hot spark of white. The beauty in the simplicity. It had been a long time since she had stopped to take note of the things around her, to see the beauty in the everyday.

It was enough to lull her into sleep. While she dozed, her friend cleared away lunch and made more tea. She placed the hot tea along with some biscuits for when she woke. She kissed the top of her friend’s head trying to fill it with as much love as she could muster for the woman who was her best friend, her world.

‘I’m so sorry my friend. Take all the time you need.’ Then she left her friend to sleep.

Heavens Reach

We hold out hope,

For the after life

For our triumphant entry to Valhalla.

Praying for those we hope are there,

Praying we too end there.

Only to find in death

We wish to stay,

Our lives unlived

And times of regret.

Some live a half-life,

Unsure of what awaits them.

Afraid of the hell we are sold,

Hopefully of the heaven described.

Living a life both

Full of regret and hope

Constantly searching for the truth

Questioning all they learn

To end in Valhalla, free.

Then there are those who live.

Who take everyday,

And create a beautiful life.

Not focused on the hereafter

But on the here and now

They enter Valhalla,

After a full life

And a heart full of memories

Happy and at peace.

This is a collection of some of my work and excerpts from books that I have written.

Feel free to also check out my Substack where I have started putting up all my writing howgoodcanitget.substack.com

Crossroads

There were three roads branching out in front of him. A crossroads. Each differing in task, deed and the toll on him physically and mentally.

The first road was a dark forest. He could hear the sounds of the creatures rustling through the underbrush. The way was so dense he could barely make out the path. With no weapon or tool to help him through, he turned from that path.

The second road was all light. Bright white sand as far as the eye could see. He could feel the heat radiating from the path. With no shoes on his feet, he turned from the path.

The third road was grass. There was no forest, no sand, no buildings, and no direction at all. He could see no sun, but the path was well lit. He felt neither heat nor cold. He felt nothing from the path. He was overwhelmed with despair as he studied the road.

He turned and looked back from where he came. He knew what to expect. It was comfortable, it was safe. It was a mostly happy road. However, he would continue to repeat the same life over and over again with nothing changing. It was why he stood now at these crossroads. To make a choice, to move on, to evolve.

Looking at each road again he studied each one further. Under the movement of creatures on the first road, he thought he heard the sound of running water. He could fashion a weapon from the trees along the path to help him through.

As he studied the second road, he thought he saw a tree in the distance, perhaps a shadow of something he had not seen at first glance.

The third path continued to fill him with despair so much he almost crumbled under the weight of it on his heart. He could not choose that path. Although it may hold great happiness, he was not emotionally ready to face it.

On reflection none of the roads instilled hope. None of them would be easy. Each road would test him in an unknown way. Could he push through the pain, the anguish, the despair to arrive on the other side? Could he become a better man?

He had taken short cuts in his life and hated the man he had become because of it. Risking nothing had got him nowhere. No one would miss him. No one would stop him. He would take this road and come out on the other side or not. To those he left behind it would mean nothing, but to those who waited over there it would mean everything.

Soon he realised it did not matter which road he took. He would endure the trials and fight his way through. He stepped forward, took a breath and moved forward.

Pain’s Hold

Some see pain as a weakness.

Something to be ignored or erased.

They push through the feelings,

Until it overwhelms them,

Causing a deeper wound.