meanwhilepoetry - Tumblr blog

[meanwhilepoetry]

on icarus.

(Attributed to Oscar Wilde//Sigmund Freud- Interpretation of Dreams//@meanwhilepoetry//Herbert James Draper- Lament for Icarus//Joseph Campbell//Hozier- Sunlight//Rainer Maria Rilke- The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge//Mary Oliver- The Sun//Vincent Van Gogh- The Sower//Matthew Ward- The Collected Stories//Florence and The Machine- Falling//Billy Collins- The Art of Drowning//Renè Milot- The Fall of Icarus//Hozier- I,Carrion (Icarrian)//Virginia Woolf- The Waves//J. Bengt- Icarus Flew//??)

[meanwhilepoetry]

My daughter was not a spoilt child. Normally. But last Monday of all days, she decided she was going to take all that good behaviour, all of my stellar upbringing and throw it out the window. Have you ever watched a dragon child throw a firebreathing tantrum? Well, let me tell you, it is not a pretty sight. Half our courtiers are currently without eyebrows. One single tantrum did that. I knew it was a mistake to have so many human courtiers as a dragon queen, but my husband insisted the only way to be a good ruler in a kingdom inhabited by both humans AND dragons is to give them some power too. I detest his innate need to be a good, fair ruler sometimes. Regardless, the reason for my child's tantrum was that she wanted a human princess. Why? I did not know. I still do not know. She did not want to explain why. She was simply obsessed with the idea of getting one. Oh I tried to convince her out of such a thing. I told her I would get her a nice fanged siren, build her a whole lake outside my daughter's window but she was having none of it. It was a human princess, or days of tantrums like this. And our courtiers have absolutely no eyebrows left to sacrifice. So I did the needful. As queen, I devised a plan to steal a princess from a kingdom far away. I also ensured they had plenty of other human princesses (a dozen to be exact) within that castle so they wouldn't miss this one. On Tuesday, two of my finest dragon spies made their way across the sea to the land of human kings and queens and stole a child. She was not difficult to capture I was told. My daughter, of course was ecstatic with her new gift. The human princess I was told did not really speak much and I had organised a little tower just above my daughter's play chambers for the human princess to be sequestered in. By all accounts, everything was peaceful and my daughter was no longer throwing any more tantrums. All was quiet. Too quiet. I finally decided today to go and have a look at what is going on in that tower. To my surprise, I found the human princess and my daughter sitting daintly together on a tiny table with my daughter's many dragon dolls sitting with them. Between them was a tiny ceramic tea set and their heads were close together solemnly discussing something. I cleared my throat to announce my presence. My daughter jumped up, her massive tail swinging and just missing her impromptu tea party and guest by an inch. "Mother! You must hear all of Aurora's stories about humans! They're fascinating!" Aurora, who I presumed was the princess also stood up and did a pretty little bow. "Hello your majesty, its a delight to meet you. I think you know my Godmother quite well. Her name is Maleficent." Oh dear. They must have captured the wrong child. What have I done.

You kidnapped a princess, because your dragon daughter wanted a princess. You are not sure why exactly she wanted one but you got her one.

[meanwhilepoetry]

I'm just trying to become someone who the child inside me will not hate. I'm trying to be everything she needed and did not receive. She is so lonely still. It's not fair that she is so lonely still.

Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

The first time our eyes met across a crowded room, it was not love at first sight. Love did not grab me by the throat. Instead when I looked at you, I saw the flowers in the meadow I used to play in as a child. What I mean to say is, every time I think of you, I remember the safest, most sacred place I ever knew. Every time I touch you, my whole body blossoms with wildflowers.

Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

“You fell in love with a storm. Did you really think you would get out unscathed?”

— Storms are the Worst at the End | Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

Sometimes I think about how beautiful it is that humans sing despite it all. That through suffering, we still sing. How even on the worst of days in the world, there were still people singing. The way a mother sings a lullaby to her crying baby to soothe her. Or the way sailors sang sea shanties out even on choppy oceans to build a sense of familiarity and camaraderie as they worked. Or how even in the depths of the earth, coal miners sing. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing about the human spirit? That we found a way to reach each other in the darkness. To let each other know through song, that do not worry, I am here. Let us sing together and ease each others fears.

- Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

Your mother warns you about love. She tells you it will leave you hollow. You think she loved the wrong man. You think it will be different for you. And one day you will meet him, and your desire for him will haunt you till you cannot bear to be away from him. Nothing prepares you for what happens next. Love will come for you like a forest fire. And you will open your arms to it and him. You will take his burning even as you become ashes, but what good are ashes to a flame? When he is done, he will leave you in ashes and sorrow. And just like your mother, you will learn the more you give, the more love will leave you hollow. You will join the long legacy of women who warn their daughters about love.

Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

The bad news is we will never go back to the way it used to be. The good news is we will never go back to the way it used to be.

- Nikita Gill

[meanwhilepoetry]

The problem is the knowledge. The knowledge you will get older, that you need comfort and safety and financial security, and your loved ones need the same and the world is not built to simply give you those things for simply living. You fear that the love you hold in your chest is not enough because you have been told love is not enough for a secure future. That you must work yourself to the bones and it still may not be enough. The knowledge is heavy. It is like a hand wrapped around your throat. Because all you really want is to lie in peace in a meadow somewhere, your head on your lover’s chest as they read your favourite book to you. But you have been taught that to earn this life, you must first set yourself on fire. And then what remains of you may just may be rewarded. I hope the world changes for you. I hope you get your meadow one day and you do not have to burn to get it. I hope it’s as vibrant as you always wanted it to be.

- Nikita Gill, Midnight Thoughts

[meanwhilepoetry]

Sing O goddess, of Hera's rage, how they vilified her for it, even if she was a woman betrayed. Sing O goddess, of Helen's desire, how everyone forgot she was the daughter of the most powerful God and that was what made the whole world burn. Sing O goddess, of Hestia's fires, how she left the cruelty of Olympus for a peaceful life - how she gave Prometheus the idea to steal the sacred flames for the mortal world. Sing O goddess, but not of Odysseus or Menelaus, Achilles or Agamemnon. Sing instead of women full of fire. Sing us the torch song which brings wildfire when Goddesses like you are ignored.

Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses 2

[meanwhilepoetry]

I am the hungriest thing you will ever meet. It’s the way my mother made me. She was hungry too, her whole life. Maybe some women are meant to be this way. Longing for something that does not exist. Forever searching, and never finding it.

[meanwhilepoetry]

I am teaching myself how to be kinder to myself by reframing my language. Instead of berating myself when I do not succeed at something, I remind myself that this was a lesson not a failure. Instead of putting myself down in crowds of people, I listen more to those around me and only add something when I feel ready to speak more kindly both towards myself and others. Instead of hating the younger version of myself, I remind myself that I did the best I could with what I was given. Self love is a daily practice. And it is not linear at all.

[meanwhilepoetry]

I know life is a mix of both joys and tragedies but can we all marvel at just how many delicious meals you will get to eat and how many people will love you and you will love in return? Can we just think about the belly laughs you will have and how often you will get to scream in delight and cry happy tears? Think of all the sunsets and the moonlit nights you are yet to experience and how the wind will whisper folk songs into your ears and most of all, there will be warmth waiting for you out of the cold and a cool breeze for every hot summers day.

[meanwhilepoetry]

There is nothing more revolutionary than telling a world trying to condition you into accepting cruelty as a norm that you will be kind despite its best efforts.

[meanwhilepoetry]

“Who taught you how to hate yourself?”

I learned it from my parents.

[meanwhilepoetry]

If you feel unwanted as a child, you will think yourself a monster unworthy of love and do anything, absolutely anything to prove to people that they should love you. Even a morsel of love is enough if you are unwanted. You’ll take the crumbs and say thank you.

[meanwhilepoetry]

Thank you for seeing me as good and whole when the world made me feel like I was bad and broken.