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    Embracing My Humanness: A Healing Journey
    Embracing My Humanness: A Healing Journey
    Embracing My Humanness: A Healing Journey
    Ebook130 pages39 minutes

    Embracing My Humanness: A Healing Journey

    By Eloise Allen

    ()

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    About this ebook

    With this stunning collection of poetry, Eloise Allen delivers a raw, emotional account of what it means to be human that will leave you both haunted and inspired. Both an immersive, all-in-one reading experience as well as a reference point for 'being human', this book will never leave your coffee table. 



    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThat Guys House
    Release dateMar 22, 2022
    ISBN9781914447372
    Embracing My Humanness: A Healing Journey

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      Book preview

      Embracing My Humanness - Eloise Allen

      root

      A twinkle in your eye

      Little Bear,

      Do you know how much I love you?

      No

      Daddy Bear

      I longed for most

      What they couldn’t give me.

      Not for knowing,

      For how

      Can they show me love

      When they don’t know

      How to love themselves

      Because

      Neither Mummy Bear

      Nor

      Daddy Bear

      of their own

      knew either.

      Youth

      Play with me, she squeals

      between breathless cries.

      Why won’t you play?

      Catch in the park

      and swinging ‘til we were sick.

      A stop at the tuck shop,

      Soggy ice cream fingers flick through magazines

      of strange women all dolled up.

      Anxious feet carry us home to play schools,

      We teach our teddy bear class all things intellectual

      Pausing to smear mother’s lippy around sticky mouths.

      A tea party to honour Friday noons,

      sipping water from diddly cups

      Pinkies up.

      ‘Sit up straight, Dolly!’ like good girls do.

      Stolen scissors to snip barbie’s hair,

      Drop her from the upstairs window

      to see how fast she’d fall.

      Potions crafted from perfumes

      Toil and trouble,

      Sickly smells.

      Bedtime stories of faraway lands

      Yesterday can’t come soon enough--

      Daddy’s home!

      Sleep eludes us,

      Walkie talkies by our bedsides

      Because things go bump in the night.

      Rituals to reassure;

      We scream when the door’s shut

      It must be left ajar.

      With daylight comes chaos:

      Arguing adults below the stairs,

      raised voices and growing pains.

      School brings fruition,

      an idle calm between the storms.

      But skipping ropes begin to whip our ankles;

      packed lunches in the bin.

      Boys laugh at belly buttons

      It’s just boisterous banter.

      Kiss-chase leaves our skin prickly,

      We giggle in the bathrooms.

      Then it’s three o’clock,

      parents at the gates watch us run out grinning.

      No-one waits for me

      I don’t ask them to.

      We walk the long way home.

      Book bag down

      No time for snacks,

      we wander next door to play.

      Neighbours’ houses for nesting...

      Years keep going by as motion pictures.

      we

      fade out.

      To build her home

      Home?

      Somewhere to grow

      somewhere to love

      somewhere to cry

      somewhere to share

      somewhere to dream

      Home is a warzone

      safety is not guaranteed.

      There’s unrest

      roaming the hallways,

      Shame

      leaking from the ceilings.

      Discord in the dining room,

      outrage in the office,

      burdens in the bedrooms.

      Feelings compartmentalised

      Crammed into freezers

      In plastic Tupperware trays.

      Memories

      prod and pull,

      messages unearthed,

      discovered from long ago.

      A new home?

      She’d want a home with sturdy foundations

      upon which to build a life,

      Brick by brick.

      She’d want a bedroom for rest,

      Nary a cave of isolation.

      She’d want a kitchen in which to share

      So much more than meals.

      Where love and acceptance

      is passed from plate to plate.

      She’d want

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