I knew this girl.
I knew her well.
I lived with her broken spirit for quite some time.
And with her judgement many more years.
Sadly she never got the chance to meet me.
Only the version of me she was told I would be.
Now she lives in Stockholm.
Once in a while I feel the urge to bring her home.
But then I think clearly again,
With the authenticity of my blooming soul,
That she will never be able to see.
Without knowing the real me.
Without my judgement.
For her Stockholm is the place to be.
M.P.Yasmine
Path
Suddenly it hits me.
In the middle of the crowd.
Going beneath the surface.
Digging deeper for understanding.
That consoling my wounded inner-child will give me all the answers.
M.P.Yasmine
Children without…
“Some children grow up to be adults with no story to tell. They’re not owning a story. They only relive and rewrite their parents story. That is the most sad part about generational curses. Children without authentic developed identities.”
M.P.Yasmine
More than Ever
My past is living inside me.
And I’m ready more than ever.
To pour it all out.
Even if I have to spill out my entire guts.
M.P.Yasmine
Dandelion
The sun reflected in its existence.
A joyful presence blooming in the meadow.
When time is right it sings in the wind.
And sometimes blown by a lucky child with beautiful wishes.
M.P.Yasmine
Children
”The day I saw death creeping in on my father, I saw a lost child lying in bed yearning for his mom and dad.
Since that day I see children everywhere.
Lost children.”
M.P.Yasmine
Orphan Child
I always felt like an orphan child.
No mother, father or siblings supporting, comforting or loving me.
Still I was strong enough to comfort my parents to death.
The one and only thing they seem to be afraid of.
Ironic isn’t it?
M.P.Yasmine
Peace and Freedom
My empath self wants to write a poem about you and mother.
Because four years ago you both decided to let life go.
Six months in between.
Not all dead can be beautifully written about.
Death itself sure.
Both of yours brought me peace and freedom.
M.P.Yasmine
Mothers
Do not assume all mothers are capable to.
To love children like some mothers do.
It needs a special kind of mother to love all children she meets.
Specially the kind of mother that doesn’t have the mother she needs.
Mothers who connect and care.
Mothers with love to share.
M.P.Yasmine
Aunt Rose
With Christmas, birthdays and gatherings,
Rose wasn’t present.
As a child I didn’t understand.
She was sweet the few times she was with us.
But now many years later I understand more than ever.
Why my aunt Rose left the family and chose not to get together.
M.P.Yasmine
Tell
Poetry written with my tears.
Words carefully chosen with my childhood fears.
It’s time for this write.
About unhealthy family dynamics and bring them to light.
Breaking the taboo.
Because evil moms exist too.
Now I’ts time.
To tell in words and rhyme.
M.P.Yasmine
Child
I heard this child cry.
Who’s child this was I couldn’t clarify.
This child kept on weeping.
I could even hear the cries while sleeping.
My thoughts turned into madness.
My heart buried in sadness.
One day I began writing.
The child stopped crying.