THE CORNER 4 WOMEN

Monday 8 April 2024

THERE IS A PLACE FOR YOU by Tahlia Hunter

"THERE IS A PLACE FOR YOU"
by Tahlia Hunter

When I was a little girl,

I had an imaginary friend.

When I was teased for being ugly,

she would whisper to me

that I was beautiful

and when I sat alone, without friends,

she remind me that I was wanted and loved.

But as I started to grow older,

she visited me less and less,

until she told me one day,

"I must leave you now.

You won't be able to see me

but still I will be with you, always.

in every high and low of life

I will remain by your side,

and though I may appear invisible

you will still be able to sense and feel me.

Every kind word

and every loving encounter,

is a message from me.

And when you reach the end of your life,

we will be reunited again.

It is not goodbye forever,

it is only goodbye until then.

And until then,

you must speak to yourself

that words I told you

and remind yourself

that there is a place for you in this world

that only you can fill

and that you are loved far more than you can ever imagine

and are deserving of being here."

*****

Words by Tahlia Hunter

https://www.facebook.com/TahliaHunterBlog

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Artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein

REMEMBER ME IN YOUR HEART by Margaret Mead

"REMEMBER ME IN YOUR HEART"
by Margaret Mead

To the living, I am gone,

To the sorrowful, I will never return,

To the angry, I was cheated,

But to the happy, I am at peace,

And to the faithful, I have never left.

I cannot speak, but I can listen.

I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.

So as you stand upon a shore gazing at a beautiful sea,

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity,

Remember me.

Remember me in your heart:

Your thoughts, and your memories,

Of the times we loved,

The times we cried,

The times we fought,

The times we laughed.

For if you always think of me,

I will never have gone

******

Words by Margaret Mead

Artist Credit : Tonja Sell

EZE'S GHOST

"EZE'S GHOST"
(author unknown)

In a certain Nigerian village, there lived a man called Eze. He was a respected elder known for his wisdom and kindness. Eze's life was cut short one fateful evening when he suddenly fell ill and passed away. His family mourned, and the village wept for the loss of their beloved patriarch.

But death did not sever Eze's connection to the living. Three nights after his passing, his spirit materialized in the room of his grandson, Obinna. The moon bathed the room in silvery light, casting elongated shadows on the walls.

Obinna, startled yet strangely calm, sat up in bed. There stood Eze, his form translucent, eyes filled with purpose. His voice, though ethereal, carried the weight of truth.

"Obinna," Eze whispered, "I have returned to share a secret—a truth that binds my soul."

Obinna's heart raced. "Grandfather, why have you come back?"

Eze's spectral hand gestured toward the small wooden chest by the window. "Open it, my child. Inside lies the tale of my demise."

Obinna hesitated, then lifted the lid. Nestled within lay a folded parchment, its edges yellowed with age. He unfolded it, and Eze's voice echoed as Obinna read:

In the days before my passing, I sensed treachery. My once-trusted friend, Okeke, harboured envy in his heart. He coveted my position as village elder, my influence over our people. But I dismissed it as mere suspicion.

One evening, Okeke invited me to share palm wine—a tradition among friends. As we sat in his dimly lit hut, he poured the wine into ornate goblets. The aroma was sweet, but my instincts screamed danger.

"Eze," Okeke said, his eyes glinting, "let us toast to our enduring friendship."

I raised the goblet, but before it touched my lips, I glimpsed a shadow—a powdery residue at the bottom. Poison.

"Okeke," I whispered, "why?"

His laughter chilled my soul. "For power, old friend. You stood in my way."

I feigned a cough, spilling the wine onto the floor. Okeke's face twisted in rage, but he masked it with concern.

"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't realize it had soured."

I fled, my heart pounding. That night, I wrote this confession, sealed it, and entrusted it to the chest. I knew my time was short.

---

Obinna looked up, tears blurring the words. "Grandfather, why didn't you expose Okeke?"

Eze's form wavered. "Fear, my child. Fear for your safety. Okeke is cunning, and I wanted you to live."

"But justice—"

"Justice will find its way," Eze said. "You must reveal the truth. Seek the village elders, show them the parchment. Okeke's guilt will unravel."

Obinna nodded. "And you, Grandfather? What awaits you now?"

Eze smiled, fading into the moonlight. "I go where ancestors dwell. But remember, Obinna, our spirits linger for a purpose. Protect our legacy."

And with that, Eze vanished, leaving Obinna with the weight of revelation. The next morning, he gathered the elders, shared the parchment, and Okeke's treachery unravelled like a frayed thread.

Justice prevailed, and Eze's spirit found peace. But in the quiet of nights, when the wind whispered through the forest, Obinna swore he heard his grandfather's voice: "Tell the tale, my child. Tell the tale."

And so, he did—keeping Eze's memory alive, a beacon of truth and courage for generations to come.

ROAR by Becky Hemsley

"ROAR"
by Becky Hemsley

As children we’re convinced

That monsters hide beneath our beds

But as adults we soon realise

That they walk the streets instead

It’s not their face that’s monstrous

It’s their loathing and their lies

For it isn’t how they look -

The monster’s who they are inside

And at first we tiptoe round them

Terrified to make a noise

But slowly, very surely

We are bound to find our voice

But as fear gives way to anger

And our loathing multiplies

We start becoming monstrous

And we think we’re justified

But flames won’t put out fire

Water will not halt a flood

And we cannot stop the monsters

By behaving as they would

You see, anyone that’s ever

Loved somebody else before

Knows no matter how much hate we feel

Love always matters more

So though you’re brave to fight them

And your courage makes you tough

Don’t fight them out of hate

But to protect the things you love

And when life gets too scary

Promise me you will make sure

That you won’t become a monster

But you’ll still learn how to roar

******

Becky Hemsley 2020

Image created with Bing

"Roar" is from Talking to the Wild https://a.co/d/7KhInfX

THE BEAUTIFUL SWAN by Tahlia Hunter

"THE BEAUTIFUL SWAN"
by Tahlia Hunter

“You see yourself as an ugly duckling,

rather than as a swan

because of how you have been treated

by those surrounding you.

But you must not look to the opinions of others

to tell you who you are,

because many of them are broken mirrors

who cannot see your value

as they cannot see their own.

And even if others don’t see your greatest potential within you,

that does not mean that it doesn't exist,

for you are merely in the process of becoming who you are meant to be.

And all versions of you are equally beautiful and worthy,

for it is the past version of you that took you here,

and it is the present version of you that will carry you to even greater heights."

*****

Words by Tahlia Hunter

https://www.facebook.com/TahliaHunterBlog

Artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein

SHINE by Becky Hemsley

"SHINE"
by Becky Hemsley

Yesterday she told you

She’d been beckoned by the moon

That she was to become a star

And would be leaving soon

And like a supernova

You felt your heart collapse

Knowing that the days ahead

Would soon become her last

But mop up all your tears

And squeeze them out amongst the clouds

Buy her favourite flower seeds

And plant them in the ground

Savour every smile of hers

And send them to the sun

Paint the sky her favourite pink

As day has just begun

Gather all the words she says

And teach the birds her song

So that the world still speaks of her

Even when she’s gone

So when the sun comes up

You’ll know it’s her that’s smiling down

And when it rains you’ll feel her love

Escaping from the clouds

Watch her flowers flourish

And listen to the birds

And hear them sing the echoes

Of her voice and of her words

Look for her in sunrises

In thunderstorms and snow

Because she’s trying to tell you

She’ll be everywhere you go

And when it’s dark, look for the stars

And see the way she shines

And realise, though she’ll leave

She’ll never really say goodbye

******

Becky Hemsley 2022

Beautiful artwork by Duy Huynh Studio

'Shine' is from When I Am Gone https://a.co/d/i9oAy2A

Sunday 7 April 2024

MY MOM

"MY MOM"
(author unknown)

My mom had a lot of problems. She did not sleep and she felt exhausted. She was irritable, grumpy, and bitter. She was always sick, until one day, suddenly, she changed.

The situation was the same, but she was different.

One day my dad said to her:

- I've been looking for a job for three months and I haven't found anything, I'm going to have a few beers with friends.

My mom replied:

- It's okay.

My brother said to her:

- Mom, I'm doing poorly in all subjects at the University ...

My mom replied:

- Okay, you will recover, and if you don't, well, you repeat the semester, but you pay the tuition.

My sister said to her:

- Mom, I hit the car.

My mom replied:

- Okay daughter, take it to the workshop, find how to pay and while they fix it, get around by bus or subway.

Her daughter-in-law said to her:

- Mother-in-law, I come to spend a few months with you.

My mom replied:

- Okay, settle in the living room couch and look for some blankets in the closet.

All of us at my mom's house gathered worried to see these reactions.

We suspected that she had gone to the doctor and that she was prescribe some pills of "I don't give a damn about 1000 mg."

She would probably also be ingesting an overdose.

We then proposed to do an "intervention" to my mother to remove her from any possible addiction she had towards some anti-tantrum medication.

But what was not the surprise, when we all gathered around her and my mom explained:

"It took me a long time to realize that each person is responsible for their life, it took me years to discover that my anguish, my mortification, my depression, my courage, my insomnia and my stress, did not solve their problems but aggravated mine.

I am not responsible for the actions of others, but I am responsible for the reactions I express to that.

Therefore, I came to the conclusion that my duty to myself is to remain calm and let each one solve what corresponds to them.

I have taken courses in yoga, meditation, miracles, human development, mental hygiene, vibration and neurolinguistics programming, and in all of them, I found a common denominator: finally they all lead to the same point.

And, it is that I can only interfere with myself, you have all the necessary resources to solve your own lives.

I can only give you my advice if you ask me and it depends on you to follow it or not.

So, from now on, I cease to be: the receptacle of your responsibilities, the sack of your guilt, the laundress of your remorse, the advocate of your faults, the wall of your lamentations, the depositary of your duties, who should solve your problems or spare a tire every time to fulfil your responsibilities.

From now on, I declare all independent and self-sufficient adults.

Everyone at my mom's house was speechless.

From that day on, the family began to function better, because everyone in the house knows exactly what it is that they need to do.