kindness

Boom Bloom

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

What do you see when your eyes close?
The day turns pink and the night goes.
What do you feel when you lick the horizon?
Tantalizing tangy rainbows dance on my tongue.

It stays only for a few moments
but lasts for years inside my heart.
Each time it arrives, each time it goes,
a never-ending cycle of joy that grows and grows.

It can’t stop, won’t stop, no matter what,
so some days, I’m like, “What the fuck.”
Because it’s so beautiful, breathtaking and mesmerizing,
I look around and feel so found.

Who is this for, these words here.
Just me, only me, but maybe you too.
I am inspired not by what you want to hear,
but what I need to say, let’s keep that clear.

I’ll walk this walk, follow my feet,
and listen only to these beats.
I’ll watch the water and the sun
as they call me, it’s so much fun.

I get my kicks from storms and sticks
produced by my friends, Mr. Weather and Miss Tree.
Their words bring truth like not nothing else,
we laugh and ponder things that light the sky.

I sing and watch the berries bleed
into my sink, after I soak them to the brink.
I dip them in chocolate heating on the stove,
because today’s menu requires no think.

I wander hoping to not talk to a soul,
it fills my cup and then a bucket.
I release the excess, and say “fuck it”
anonymous today please, that’s the goal.

These words fit just like new shoes,
I must litter the pages as I speak in hues.
I want to dance and flutter without hearing you mutter,
but it’s ok if you tend to sometimes stutter.

Today was such a good day,
my seagull told me the funniest joke.
I spit out my tea and thought I might choke,
is there a better way?

I sing to myself and release it all,
I look at the gifts that surround us
and it pisses me off that you take them for granted,
so all of your takings, I use, and let them know.

That I appreciate you, and you and you.
I see you, hear you, know you, follow you.
I give to you, watch you, ask you, I listen.
Everything they take, I give back.

I will equal the field when things unbalance,
I will let you know that you are loved,
I will remind you that you are seen,
I will embody what you need and flow it to you with speed.

I feel the boom inside your bloom,
and there’s lots of room.
My passion will restore you,
that you can always assume.

Fall

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

Fall is so fucking beautiful especially in Vancouver.
I want to drink the sky’s velvet blue coat until I choke.
I want to eat the leaves, crunch the colours like candy corn until I bleed.

I was on the bus last week and I told the man sitting beside me
how unusually beautiful, vibrant and stunning fall was this year. Much more so.
He then began to explain to me that, in fact I did not feel what I do as a result
of the colours this year and the way fall is expressing itself. That there
really isn’t anything different about this year, it’s just my eyes have
adjusted coming from Ontario where the colours are always very exuberant in the fall.

I thought to myself, “No, actually, what I feel is valid. What I see is relevant,
and what I know is true.”

Why is there always a fucking man trying to correct how you feel and to
explain your emotions back at you like what you see and how you feel
about what you see isn’t in fact, real, that, “you feel that way because of this, not that.”

Really?

We kept chatting, he talked about his wife and him moving to
North Van from Ontario after COVID. I kept looking out the bus
window eye daggers penetrating every yellow, orange and red tree
as we moved through Stanley Park. A view that always has been more
satisfying and fulfilling to me than a man.

As we approached our stop at Park Royal, he grabs my hand,
looks at me deep in my eyes, pauses, and tells me
my smile is nothing he’s ever seen before (shocker) and asks
can he meet me again to talk more about the beauty of B.C.

It’s always my smile that gets them, sucks them in. It’s always the married ones.
I thanked him for the compliment, and politely declined his offer.
I’d rather sit through nine root canals and an appendectomy
than sit next to a man who wants to correct the way I see the world.

Fuck that.

I’ll stick with nature.

Charming Cheating Man

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

There’s a man who’s cheating on his wife,
he lives just down the street from me.
We picked each other up in the No Frills
one November night.
I should have known, the tubs of ice cream
bags of chips and candy packs,
definitely for his kids.
He said my smile made his night and
hoped he’d hear from me.
We exchanged numbers
and I texted him as soon as
I got home.


It took us a week to arrange a time
to meet.
It was a cold and rainy midnight, should have
known.
I met him on Nelson Street.
Under an awning. Tall, handsome,
confused.
He offered to carry my umbrella, to shelter me.
I held my own.
We walked and talked in the rain by the ocean,
no one in sight.
I took him to my favourite tree, we stood there
a while and he said he
loved my smell.
“Indian coconut nectar it’s called”
I replied.

It was so dark and wet, we were so alone.
I asked him questions about his wife,
his kids, his family. I didn’t hold back.
Nervous and kind I listened to the
charming cheating man.
I made him feel
safe because that’s what I do.
There was connection and attraction.
I planned my escape.

We entered a pub at 1:00am, and were the
only two people there other than a
drunk couple doubled over at the bar.
He ordered whiskey. Neat.
I ordered peppermint tea. Dirty.
He said peppermint tea was his favourite.
I asked for two cups.
He asked me questions. Open ended questions.
Fuck.
He paused and thought before
asking another, and another.
He was calm and confident, not
what I’m used to.

The rain stopped and the wind really picked up.
He showed me pictures of his kids because I asked.
Beautiful smiles.
I stared across at the charming cheating man
and asked him why he was sitting across
from me at 1:00am.
He had answers.
I wish I had asked the questions
before this night.
This night, walking and talking in the rain,
was so nice I didn’t want it
to end, but of course,
it had to.
Right?