You are more than a list of mistakes and if anyone tells you otherwise, let it be the last they make.

Iain Thomas

Please, allow me

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.

Mr Darcy

Love after love

The time will come when, with elation, you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror, and each will smile at the other’s welcome and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was yourself.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you have ignored for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott

Courage, dear heart

This time last year, I was couped up in a Birmingham library preparing for one of the biggest battles of my life – passing the CT4 actuarial board exam that had held up my qualification by three years. I had never been so scared in life. During those days, nothing else mattered. Certainly not the thousands of Rands I was flushing down the drain with that trip.

This year began with me vowing to live my life to the max; chiefly because my heart had stopped beating the minute I got a call to say my guardian mother was in ICU and things weren’t looking good. I begged, I pleaded and I prayed for her to get well. But mostly I bargained. I bargained for her health in return for never taking a single day for granted. Every day I pray to measure up to that bargain.

On both knees

I want your Monday morning 

sleep soaked eyes
dream drenched voice,
lazy bones
‘five more minutes please babe.’
I want your Tuesday afternoon
coffee break,
glasses off, laughter on
‘just hold me for a while
it’s been a hard day.’
I want your Wednesday evening
fingers through hair
teeth nibbling nails
neck craning, eye glazing
‘this paperwork never ends’