Don’t knock on doors that weren’t opened for you
Don’t go where your soul isn’t comfortable
Whatever you run from you’ll run into
What’s yours knows you by the scent of your love
Sit in your solitude for a moment
Your soul tribe are on their way
How are they going to find you if you keep running away from yourself?
Wonders are discovered in the blind world of vibes and feelings
Let your soul lead the way
You’re invited elsewhere
I just found out that the British MP Jo Cox succumbed to her injuries. And this reminds me all too much about the similar fate the Swedish minister for foreign affairs Anna Lindh met. She was stabbed in broad daylight and later succumbed to her injuries. This was during the referendum regarding adopting the Euro.
I was in 7th grade at the time I believe, but her death is seared into my memory. I remember our Swedish teacher bursting into our classroom during a science class and telling us that she died. We were all hoping she’d pull through.
She was the last in a group of truth warriors for lack of a better word. She followed in the steps of Olof Palme who was also assassinated for his fiery revolutionary spirit ; his champion of the revolutionaries of Cuba and Cambodia, his no holds barred criticism of the neo-imperialist agendas of the Western powers, his sweeping reforms of the Swedish constitution that still stand till this day, though they are starting to wither away.
And like Anna Lindh, Jo Cox was a renowned humanitarian and she fought relentlessly for the Syrian refugees and was a resolute idealist who fought for humanity and championed for women.
I’ve discovered that I can’t convince someone to not fear my darkness when they haven’t embraced theirs. I’ll retreat to my shadows. You’ll have me when you cross over.
I know too much, even if I try dumbing myself down
I carry the burden of every soul that my eyes fall upon
I read people like barcodes
I’m hiding because I can’t take it much longer
I’m looking to heal in exile
I can’t take carrying and never being carried
Understanding and never being understood
Listening but never be truly heard
Noticing but never noticed
If I hide, would someone come looking for me?
If I go out in the dead of the night, looking for stars to count –
How sweet it would be to have a hand to hold
An ear that’d listen to the stories I’d read off the constellations of stars
Someone in whose memory I would live on
Long after I’m gone
Someone to inherit the museum I keep in my heart
Someone who’d build bookshelves for the library I keep in my head
But alas, expectations can kill
and you look like you could murder my heart with a cold smile and shrug