Heritage Day

Today is my last day


I manage to crawl off the bed that ceased to be coupled almost a decade ago

then land in my still relatively tiny bathroom, though my own physique seems to be shrinking by the second now

I look up at my reflection and I realise the purpose of mirrors

There is a headline,

my face

wrinkled and grey beneath its letters seems to unfold like an over ripe flower without ever having been touched

it says;

Heritage Day

I shuffle along until I trip over the now almost dry white board marker and I begin the list:

One: I inherited the dark lines of deceit off my mother’s core

Two: I learned how to live with being a liar

Three: I came as a foreign being full of love

Four: I was denied love but I’m still leaving filled with only those four letters

Five: Life was beautiful though the darkness is always the beginning of a new story

Six: I inherited the art

Seven: I will never forget


I rinse myself off and decide that it would be better to leave full of hope

After all

3 months before they expected me I was ready

13 years before I was

they weren’t

my family


The wardrobe whispered the call of majesty

I obeyed my longing eyes

past the dioors and my goodbye suit

I found the two letter phrase barely in disguise and I remembered why

Heritage day:

One: I learned how to judge myself better than anyone had ever judged me

Two: It wasn’t always sunny

Three: How to fake the smile through heartache

Four: How to cause the same

Five: My clothes are cheap

Six: I am unworthychocolat_l

Seven: I knew this each time we made eye contact… after all; we are self proclaimed judges


So neat, tidy and fresh I walk towards the lonely seat and the non functional tv

and on the top right hand corner of the screen

A phrase in white paint screams out at me

Heritage Day:

One: My skin colour murdered my first love

Two: I inherited the skill of not caring much for those attributes

Three: My father Died of a broken heart

Four: You saved mine

Five: Our life was puzzled together by vibes and muted sentences

Six: In the end, my quirks were irrelevant and your were my indica

Seven: I fell eternally asleep with the very thoughts that days and nights before had always haunted me.


Palm on palm now

My eye lids find their space

No tears left in me

My heritage day is eternal

and I only grew to know that the moment I looked into you!






Lullaby! (To Dad)

Dear dad!
I miss you.

It’s been a while and I know it’s my fault mainly
I really should write to you more often
You speak to me in a way that no one else knows
Like the chirping of the bird outside my window while my stone heart begins to waken
And it is pain at first
And hopelessness
But then a spark of life happens in my wolfy veins
That is barely noticeable enough at first
Then day after day you whisper breezes of wind in return of the scorching memories and fears…

Years have passed since I truly felt like a weaver of words;
I knew I died then
Perhaps with you – is it beautiful to finally be a part of everything again?
Do you miss her?
Whoever she was…
I think your love for her inspired me so that I could not help but fall in love with that planet; a woman!
The galaxies of female curves I have seen
Left me broken dead and empty.

I am much better now though
I’m learning to forgive
To let go of the things I cannot change
I think I’m learning how to live.

Are you proud of me?
I still feel like your little girl.
I have written so much just tonight only to avoid telling you for the first and only time : I am hurt

Hurt but still breathing
Crippled but healing
With every cell in me that yearns to be
Someone worthy

Tomorrow I will continue my quest and I will fail a little less at disproving the impossible
And fail a little less again the following day
Until impossible is nothing

Because I think not even you believed in what you chased
Not even you could dream that big
Oh but you insisted that I learn
And so I did

I dream a little less these days
I focus on success
Not in material value though I’m sorry; I’m quite alright with just being me
But I succeed a little more each day
I manage to keep me complete.

I have started learning how to be brave
And yes
Yes dad, she’s teaching me.

That nothing is ever really worth it unless it hurts a little at least!

One Breath At A Time

The problem with moms and dads is that they are unaware of how powerful they are and how much they go through solely for the sake of their children!

The problem with my dad was that he wanted too much to believe in the things he was doing, but he didn’t realize if he’d started off by doing the small things well; that his success would have been inevitable. Don’t get me wrong; he was my hero – but he gave up… and I don’t blame him.

Now understand that giving up doesn’t always mean that you stop working, but real defeat happens when you stop living. When the only thought that possesses you is the need to prove yourself, the need to be independent, the need to elevate your pride because someone else left it rotting with a pile of scrap food under their bed. He had stopped going out unless it was to work, he had stopped singing, he had stopped swimming, he had stopped writing… he lost himself at the bottom of a glass each day and he couldn’t understand why I was so distant… but I couldn’t handle seeing him that way so instead of being there for him, I ran away and didn’t realize that inadvertently I had given up on him too. So how was he supposed to get up, when one of the only people he was getting up in the mornings for had given up on him too?

Please don’t mistake this as a call for pity, this is one of the toughest messages I have had to put into words… but it needs to happen, because if only one person reads this and recognizes the urgency with which it needs to be passed on; it could save lives.

Giving up on our elders is equivalent to giving up on ourselves. My second hero is someone who played a vital role in raising me too; he is my mother’s father. He’s been in ICU for the last week, it all started with a little fall that broke his arm and leg. Being in hospital meant that he could no longer reach for HIS glass countless times a day, so his first phase was Delirium… now Dream has him and Death is waiting patiently to be his friend, to walk with him and guide him until he is comfortable enough to let go. When I first found out, I cannot honestly say that I felt much, because I was angry. I kept myself busy with running, writing, studying… I almost gave up on him too.

Last night, I allowed myself to face some demons. They turned out to be angels because they taught me that sometimes the one thing a person needs most is someone to say,” I am not giving up on you, so before I do – you should never give up.” So I told him that… now it’s all up to him to fight or quit, but I refuse to give up on him.

You against the world (aka:you) (DO WATCH THIS!!)

The magical thing that happens when you tell someone that you believe in them and mean it; is that they begin to wonder why. On first glance they see nothing in themselves that someone else could believe in. That is the precursor to the search, they then begin to tear down their own walls searching for the thing you so desperately believe in. Will they find it? Oh, you bet! Because once their walls have collapsed, they find themselves… don’t understand where I am going with this??



One little step at a time is all it takes.

My step included admitting to myself that I had given up on the one person I believed in most and indirectly; on myself too.

It included selling my bed so I could stop being lazy and start working harder to achieve the things that I aim for, that I am passionate about: the things that scream.”Iva was here!” just by existing, being done or having been done.

Room without a bed

Room without a bed

Unfortunately my photography skills are not all that great but this (and my computer on which I am now creating this blog) is about all I currently have in my room. Each time I feel adgitated and want to drown myself in distractions… I work out with only one phrase on my mind:


Find your demons and make angels of them. It will make the life journey a lot less impossible and unbearable. Most of all guys, no matter how hard it may seem, remember to let your elders know it, they need it more than we could ever imagine.

Howls and hugs


URL for featured Image: http://old.seattletimes.com/ABPub/2013/12/04/2022396558.jpg

Cry The Beloved Children

Cry the beloved children

For cities built on sleep

For mirrored fears and crumbling forts

For rivers running deep

Cry the beloved children

For masters of the war

For clowns and jugglers and pilots

Standing not too still ashore

We cry each tear in reverence

In muted screams our eyes do beg

For gifts received by masculine elders

Our hints of fortune undying with the dead

Cry the beloved children

For leper ghosts of Christmas past

Cry until your souls dry out

Then humbly reconnect at last

Cry the beloved children

Lest we wake and at dawn do forget

That loving fathers slave for you

All until they bid adieu