what is love…really?

stone artwork
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What is love… really?

If we hold it up to the brightest light

And turn it upside down,

Give it a shake, and see if anything comes loose.

Is it even a good thing?

This feeling we want, so much we could bottle it?

We could package it up and sell it for cash,

Forgetting the fact that sometimes there’s damage

That rips through your heart,

Ruining lives if it passes a date

Stamped on the tin in invisible ink.

It’s a risk that we take

And one that will hurt.

I can’t help but spend time wondering exactly what love is. I know that poets and musicians and every other kind of artist have tried to unpick this, but it still fascinates me.

I fell in love with Noah’s father and the fall out when it crumbled almost killed me. It was so bad that I decided I couldn’t do it again. And I have stuck by my word and not gone near a relationship in all that time.

I just wonder why something that can hurt us so badly, is still so enticing. And we don’t even really know what it is. Is it just chemical? Is it something magical? Does it need to be sought out, or does it seek you out?

As humans we are so fragile, and can have our ego dented so easily, so why are we drawn to something that seems to dissolve our walls and make us all but one?

Much Love

Rachel xx

do you believe in angels?

an angel smoking a cigarette
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Do you believe in angels?

Not the ones in sewn up sheets

With tinsel halos, hands in prayer

As twenty children sing about the baby Jesus.

I mean the type that come to us in times of need,

The ones that shouldn’t be there to

Rescue us when hope is dying,

When we question our mortality.

They’re there to lead is in the dark,

Provide a shell when really we should be

Battered to a broken mess

And ripped from all our earthly love.

I think I really must believe…

I don’t know what made me think about this, but there are definitely times in life when I feel like I have been protected by something a little bit bigger than myself. And I’ve read stories of other people who have had even closer shaves with death.

I’m talking about the stories we hear of people lost on trails, out in the middle of nowhere, and they are running out of water. And then out of nowhere comes somebody who leads them back to safety. There’s no reason for them to be right there at that time, but they are.

My close shave was in Cape Town. I was on a scooter with my partner and a taxi bus pulled in front of us. We hit the side of it square on and our heads went straight through the window. We bounced off and hit the road, hard. The bike pretty much shattered and the guy who came to take it away couldn’t understand how Colin and I had only come away with one cut finger and a grazed knee. He said every accident like it, that he had seen, involved the loss of a limb or worse.

The interesting thing was that just before we hit the taxi, a woman pressed the button for the crossing and we had to stop to let her cross. It was the first crossing that we had come across for about ten miles and it meant that we were driving about fifteen miles an hour slower than we had been when we hit.

If that woman had not stopped us, we probably would have been killed. I have no idea who she was and she probably didn’t even know that we crashed a couple of seconds later. Or did she?

Perhaps she was put there to make sure we didn’t meet an untimely death. And who knows what we might have been spared for? It just reminds me that sometimes I need to make it count. There may be a reason for it after all.

Much Love

Rachel xx