MY ADVENTURE

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

I've passed a fountain

Been in a slate mine,

Even climbed a mountain.

It was very high,

I gasped, but I didn't cry,

We were so close to the sky.

I was amazed at the beauty of the rolling hills,

Sad that the tiny ant-like people below,

Could not see the nature, so still.

On the next day we went to the beach,

We went rock climbing,

We went so high it was almost out of reach.

My heart was in my mouth,

As I scrambled around for footholds,

Listening to the soothing sound of the sea.

WHEN THE SUNFLOWERS RAISE THEIR HEADS

The endless yellow fields of blooming sunflowers are like an invitation to flight and inspiration. They are like a reflection of the sun—a materialised expression of infinite faith and optimism. Yellow speaks so loudly that I obey without hesitation. The sunflowers have bowed their heads, but not as a sign of obedience.

When sunflowers bow their heads, it is because they cannot bear the weight of the sun they carry. It is because no living being can withstand the gaze of a sunflower that radiates the sun itself. No mortal can look directly into the eyes of that little yellow sun. When sunflowers bow their heads, it is not because they have been conquered or defeated, but because they are full of love and mercy for those around them—a mercy that chooses not to burn, but to protect, and to preserve life.

I am a living being, open to the new, the different and to change, open to love in all its forms. Yet I remain free from all of it. I am ready to begin again, ready to reflect the sun-filled yellow fields that will drive the darkness out of me.

You tell me that I am already fully formed and that there is no hope for me. You try to convince me that I have been shaped wrongly so that I can fit only into your world, where you are the master. You tell me that everything within me is already finished and that I can no longer grow in a direction that leads to my freedom. You see no path of development that could lead me to liberation. And you call this love.

You want me to believe this so that I will depend on you for everything—for my pain, my suffering, my joy and my hopes. You want me to think that I am broken and that only you can teach me how to become whole and independent again. But that is exactly what I want—to become whole and independent. To be like a blank sheet of paper on which I can write my life again. To be like a sunflower with its head held high.

I'LL MISS YOU

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

 

I know it is only a few days,

But this trip could go many ways.

Whether I get there by car or train,

Whether there's sun or rain.

But whatever happens I will miss you,

From the start and all the way through.

THE GINGER CAT

(a poem by 10 year old Emma)

The Ginger Cat,

Goes by many names,

The hunter of the bat,

Kitty and Miss James.

She is more than meets the eye,

She's way more than a soft, fluffy coat,

And she's sneaky and sly,

The kind that'll boast.

The Ginger Cat roams far and wide,

Though she has a perfect home,

She travels far and takes pride,

And prefers to be alone.