post ppd

i sat on my son's bed tonight and wept.
uncontrollably.
holding his infant clothes up to my face.
trying to connect to what i was never able to connect with.
my infant.
my newborn.
my love.
he is two now. and with me. safe and happy.
i know i mustn't cry. i know i mustn't be sad. we are happy now.

but there is a void within me-- an emptiness--
that howls- as my breath rises in my body.
a haunting-
of days that passed with anxiety, depression, isolation
and no connection to my thriving, loving, little boy.
i will always miss you.

untitled

i used to say, in the still night air, that it was difficult because everything was so different.

i could not find my compass because my entire world had been turned upside down-- my compass was out of loop. the magnetic directions had been tied-up and twisted. the magnetic forces no longer worked-- to make the connection.

i just don't feel like myself anymore because i cannot recognize my life, that must be normal. i mean, when your life has changed so much in such a short amount of time-- one must need time to re-root, right?

yeah, sure. he'd say. reassuringly. softly. and yet, the ground from under me was rocking, cracking, and edging away at the seams of my existence.

nothing could reassure me. i had to find my way back to me. but how, nothing was the same anymore. my body looked so different, it felt so different. i was supposed to celebrate this blossoming belly, this life inside of me-- this child of mine and the mother i was to become. celebrities say that it is the sexiest they have ever felt, then why do i feel nervous, swollen, and big? do they not experience the same things other women do? what about the nausea, vomiting, heartburn, stretch marks, lack of sleep, constant need to pee?

nothing was the same, even my breathing had changed. my breath, the rhythm, the sound. in yoga, they say, find yourself through your breath. the simplest direction back to myself, had been altered. it was a different course altogether. and i knew it. finding my breath reminded me of the loss of self.

i was hopeful that once the baby was born, i'd realize myself again. except, by then, i had forgotten exactly who it was i was searching for. i had died such a sudden death that it had gone unnoticed. i had died my death so long ago, that the memories of me had faded into obscurity.

i stopped searching. i numbed. i fell. i swam deep into the fog. crawled right into the shoebox of broken compasses.

breath

the blue light fades into the hush of the dark atmosphere
i am breathing
alone
in this space i have created
a sanctuary in my mind
i close my door and close my eyes.
alone
at last
alone

they are fighting for democracy

in iran,
they are fighting,
using their lives as weapons-

so naive at midnight

the lists fill my mind-
there is no empty warmth here.
there is nothing but everything
it buzzes above my own breathing
i can't calm down, and i can't stop it

he's asleep so soundly
i don't want to wake and worry him
his warmth brings me solace and yet i am ashamed
that i am like no other: normal without pain

is that the truth or what we chose to see
what we chose to reveal:
a fake california closet-- organized, designed, and oppressive

and i
always
buy into it

i can't help it,
i am very busy measuring and judging myself.
too busy trying to fit-in and do the right thing
trying to be the best that i can be
i always fall short, it's impossible to recreate that dream. that image.

so, i buy into the ones everyone tries to sell me
it helps to keep me feeling inadequate

good girl

the blue light dims
as whispering voices fall into a hush

my heart beats to the energy of my youth
palpitating through my body

nervousness and cunning assurance fill my heart
i feel my breath in my lungs and my ribcage moving

so alone

yet

full and complete

i walk the walk-- there is not another way,
or so it seems to me, at this bold age

i say the lines, they have taught me to say,
alone on this big bright stage.

it's coming on christmas

i love joni mitchell. do you know she's canadian? it's very awesome that a canadian artist is one of the most prolific and influential artists of the world.

it's coming on christmas, they're cutting down trees, they're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace, i wish i had a river, i could skate away on.

this song has been used in many movies-- it is one of my favourite songs of all time.

when i was twenty my parent's constant fighting and struggles got real bad. this song saved me. this song, and my brother. i wanted to shield him from all the troubles in my parent's marriage and all the sadness in our family.

the song gave me solace.
my brother gave me reason to be happy, stay connected, and make it the best christmas i could, for him. i look back fondly on that christmas.

the power of love, the written word, and joni mitchell.

I loathe political apathy - it's soooo uncool!

What's political apathy? Our very trusted wikipedia states that political apathy is public and/or individual indifference towards political events and movements.

When I was a tweleve or thirteen years old, Whoopi Goldberg presented the poem "First they came ..." at the Oscars. This poem sent shivers down my spine. Especially because it was read by a black female (making me think of the struggles faced by her ancestors and herself as a black female in america). This poem is attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group (Wikipedia). However, the precise origin of the poem is not known.

I have thought of this poem many times in my life, especially while I was getting my B'A in International Relations and lately with the state of affairs in our province.

Here is the poem as read and presented by Ms.Goldberg. I hope it inspires you to action.

First they came for the communists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the catholics, and I did not say anything- because I was a Protestant;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not say anything- because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for the Blacks, and I did not say anything- beacuase I was not Black;
Then they came for me- and there was no one left to say anything.

Yesterday - in the proper font

That was long before sitting in the backseat of a car made me nauseous.
When the crisp air of a star-filled night stirred excitement instead of the need for a good cup of tea and a cozy fire.
Getting into bed when the birds started chirping stirred a sense of accomplishment, not resentment.
But, relishing in a past- leaves nothing but the falling rain.
I'd rather be still and mesmerize in the current stream that runs past me than look back at where I started from.

My recent letter - published in our local paper

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing out of concern for our province. I am looking at the front page of the Wednesday September 30th North Shore News and lamenting our future and well being. The two front page stories are about budget cuts to a program helping North Shore women and children confronted with domestic violence and an award winning North Shore substance abuse program.

I am not surprised but I am saddened. When one looks at the decisions made by our Provincial Liberals, one sees a continued disdain for social programs and public well being. We are only as strong as our weakest link-- and the decisions made by the provincial Liberals are weakening our social fabric. Do not be surprised if crime rates rise (due to a rise in drug abuse), stories of dead women and children take-up more than half of our nightly news programs, gang violence continues to soar (due to cuts in public education and various counselling programs for family and youth). I can only see a bleak view of our future. And what baffles me is that they are cutting so much, and yet asking for more money (in the form of the HST and hikes in our MSP premiums), so what are we getting in return for all this money we are made to dish out to them? Where is our hard earned cash going? This government whole-heartily believes in the "trickle down effect"-- but I caution each voting member of this province to examine that theory. Perhaps our premier needs to stop acting like a CEO and start taking care of the people of this province. We are not a corporation, we are a society of people who need to be respected. We have to live with the decisions these people are making.

A few year from now, Gordon Campbell will be sitting on the board of many companies, perhaps living in a gated community-- immune from the troubles he has caused us middle-working class people. We are the ones who will face gun shots on our streets, an increase in crime rates, deteriorated conditions in our public schools, and in our public services. We are the ones that have to cut our spending in other areas of our lives to pay for the HST meanwhile getting little in return.

I am extremely saddened by the state of our province and by the continued loss of pertinent social and public services.

Sincerely, Sareh Donaher

Oh to California

Mom's voice like peach fuzz

Memories on blankets of soft white silk fluttering in the warm wind-
rippling back to me with the tide.

Dad's strong hands, rough and tired from hours on the stearing wheel. Reaching from behind the seat. Finding my soft pink hands.

I see his broad smile and glimmering eyes in the rear view mirror.

Love

A slow drive down south to California.

Asleep on the bumpy road with their murmurs and low laughter lulling me to dream.

I love E.E. Cummings

The following is a beautiful poem by E.E. Cummings (born Edward Estlin Cummings)-- I just wanted to share it with you.
~~~~~~~~~~

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Happy 2007

It's the new year! Time to get retrospective. Gain prospective.
Take a look at who you are, who you want to be, and what your soul is whispering.
Listen to your heart's desire
As the late and great John Lennon has said,
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
...
Happy New Year to you all
May we all be blessed with peace, love, health, and joy :)

rebirth

The grief was too great for the world to hold
in the heart of its hand
it had to let go ...

The grief was too large to be carried by all
in the heart of their hands ...

As we left the church
in silent thought
the heavy weight of a mother's tears
fell from the sky
as we let go
the wails of cries
the sorrow of a final goodbye to
a child
forever
reborn

Sleep

The hidden stories that lie within the sheaths of our mind, reveal themselves in the depths of the night, leaving footprints on our dusty end tables.
We feel them
Tip
Toe
On the comforters we hold so tight.
Never free from our past demises
We look to the future to put the breaks on our spinning thoughts
Ignoring the present
Forsaking the future
To unstitch what was once sewn so well, with good intentions.