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!






Brendan Howlin and The Secret of Urban Druidry (A Review of The Handbook Of Urban Druidry)

The very first book on Druidry I managed to get my hands on was an exciting part of my life but also rather crippling. I started off excited about the idea of Druidry and what it meant to be one, but according to the book I held in my palms;it was rather impossible for me to become that as I was not anywhere near a forest, country side or any sort of quiet place. The hum of the city street was as close as I could get to nature during the day time and at night I was always at work which also didn’t help at all.

Brendan Howlin is a member of the order of Bards, Ovates and Druids (OBOD) and has been a SIT for Bards and Ovates; The Handbook of Urban Druidry written by Brendan himself, came (for me) at a time when I was comfortable to live as a lost unfettered just because the prospect of any spiritual path posed more set backs than benefits. Reading  this book; one’s ears seem to automatically tap into that wave of being one with everything and realizing that even the chaotic city is in its own right sacred and could very well be just as solid as any forest foundation for magical purpose and outcome.

This also brings me (as a side note) to the topic of differentiating magic, there is no form of it that is lesser or greater than the other, the outcome of anything depends mainly on the wielder, the student, the teacher.

Again I would like to emphasize that my reviews never focus on giving away too many facts on the book itself but focusing on the main aim, and hoping that this little whisper of what is out there will inspire you to get out there and experience more by reading, writing or simply being.

Moon Books always seem to pick out the glitter in the rubble, this time a helping hand for those of you who like me would love to learn more about how to practice Druidry without allowing the city life to become a hurdle.

Job very well done Mr. Howlin

The urban wolves of the world salute you.