Sunday, 21 April 2013

Poem: When we are ourselves

In an endless blue, I hold up a red balloon;
                    waiting for things to happen.
We lost something familiar in the connection,
as the nervous river of thought feeds our bodies,
in cloaks of invisibility we wish to hide.
Hands that used to wipe away our tears,
when there were monsters under our beds,
                     have grown away from us.
So we learnt to be unmoved and untouched.
We hide our vulnerability under our cloaks.
How can we ignite a life into a new heart
                     and call it an accident?
Then we are tragedies,
crashing one over another.
We are not a definition of life.
We collect pieces and dots of eternal summer rays
and flickering shadows of raindrops.
How those insignificant stains
make a much more meaningful picture.
A single drop can colour a glass full of water;
                      before it melts away;
– that’s what happens when we are ourselves.


  1. I loved the poem. The wordplay was really upto the mark. Loved reading it. I loved the line, "A single drop can colour a glass full of water"

    Loved the meaning and theme of the poem. Presentation of it, made it great. :)

    1. Thank you very much, glad you like it :) That line is the reason why I wrote the poem.

  2. Very nicely portrayed the difficulties of life , when we wish to be alone

  3. good advice - nice open and fun style too!

  4. nice....what happens when we are ourselves...when we no llonger feel the need to hide it behind that cloak...and what do we really gain in hiding other than hollow approval...great piece....color that water...smiles.

  5. This strikes me as sad that a person is unmoved and untouched and hides their vulnerability. Better to show one's vulnerability, as that is the real person....and we all have these vulnerabilities. They are part of being human. Loved the description of "tragedies crashing one over another." That is such vivid poetic language. And indeed, a single drop can color a whole glass of water....excellent metaphor for being oneself! Nice writing here, Natasa!

    1. It always seem to me, that those who hide their vulnerability become somewhat less 'human'. And thank you :)

  6. beautiful and wise... we all walk through life a little bit broken, ultimately this is what allows us to connect and feel compassion towards one another and our own precious selves.

  7. I love this poem. Very well expressed and wise.

  8. This is wonderful =) When I was teenager and undergoing my prerequisite identity issues, I started keeping a journal in order to know myself better and quite possibly because I was obsessed with Moll Flanders. One day when I was reading it I realized I already knew myself and that I was always myself even when hiding because those insecurities, the masks, the games they were all part of me

    1. Indeed, we make up masks to deal with insecurities and in all those things we hide ourselves. It's important to show vulnerability, it's totally human thing to feel...and people can connect with that.
      Thank you for commenting :)

  9. A lovely write. I especially admire your closing lines.

  10. /we collect pieces and dots of eternal summer rays/
    nice line.

  11. I was very touched by this. How much of our lives have we been hiding only to find that true contentment can only come from being ourselves? Marvelous job of expressing this.

  12. I love this. First time here, and your blog is gorgeous.

    Did you create the artwork? Just wondered, because it has such a singular appeal, as though you made the art before you wrote the poem! A word on being ourselves - if we don't get it right, if we fade in authenticity, truth-telling, if we hide behind a mask, then yes, it is like that droplet of dye in water. We simply fade into the rest of whatever is around us.

    I think, though, that if we allow our "true colors" to show (much like the primary colors in the painting), perhaps that drop will suspend, like a lava lamp? I wonder... Peace, Amy

    1. Yes, the artwork you can see along my poems is mine. And it is true, the idea for the painting came first, and that's how the poem starts.

      Interesting thought, maybe, especially if one has "strong colours" :)

      Thank you!