Book: Whispers of the Inner Child

Breaking the silence here, to introduce you my new book 😊

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Whether you're seeking healing, creative expression, or a return to your authentic self, this book serves as a gentle companion. It encourages you to honour your past and nurture your inner child, rediscovering the joy, curiosity, and magic of viewing the world through the innocence of a child. Your inner child is waiting—are you ready to listen?

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The inner child represents the most innocent part of you—the essence of who you were before the expectations of others influenced you. You instinctively knew what brought you joy and how we should treat each other. Your heart compass guided you between what was right and what was wrong. 

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In my opinion, what you enjoyed doing when you were a child, is related to your true purpose. When you give your inner child the love and space to be free, you will be guided back to your authentic self. There are lines of wisdom woven in each of us, entangled in the stings our inner children carry. And my wish is, for you to find them.

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Everyone's scars reflect differently, in the way they think and feel. Healing is unique, but essential to return back to the core of who you are and why you came here for. Grief will hold various tastes, as you thread waters of what you had and what you needed. The helpless inner child is asking to be heard, to be loved, to be safe with you.

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Contents 

💚 The Girl, the Owl and the Doe

A short story about the journey of healing the inner child

💚 Letter to the inner child 

An invitation for you to write it on additional pages

💚 Poetry of the 4 seasons

Each season contains 22 pieces with an additional page for you to write or sketch to the prompt or create your own

💚 Tanka corner

Few pages as a wrap-up to this journey 

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Grab a pen and let your creativity flow to uncover your inner wisdom. Let your inner child play.

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Available on Amazon as a paperback and hardcover.

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Blog: Ending

It's been ages since I started this blog. And it has taken me on an adventure. I was totally in a different space back then. I am grateful for all the people I've met through this platform. Makes me grateful for the technology we have. But since I have children I've neglected it, and now when I've been active on Instagram and gotten more followers and more importantly more feedback, a sense of belonging to a poetry community... It has become quite useless to post here. Especially since last few months it seems spammers are at it.

I've published my third poetry book, and I was really proud of it, but now that I've started writing more, I've distanced myself from it. I've been thinking about the fourth one. But I have to answer some questions for myself first. Why do I keep writing? Why is there something in me that needs to write and needs to share it? Why when this road leads to nowhere? It takes time, energy, even money for publishing and buying your own copies, but in the end, it doesn't matter, rarely anyone appreciates that. My self esteem for my poetry is cracked from the very beginning, because I've never received any good feedback from fellow writers in Slovenia. Strangely, I've always had the belief that nobody will understand me in my country. And that seems to be the case, although I wish it were different.

Sometimes I wish I could live from writing alone. I'm at the crossroads and I have one year to figure things out, to find a new job.. and it kills my heart a little, because I will probably leave health care system. Because I'm a midwife. Because I can't find a job closer to home in midwifery. I never thought we are so hard to be employed! And when I look back to my studying years and all I've been through.. it breaks me. I loved it. I saw myself in it. Even though I've ended up working basically just in gynecologist office, I think I've gotten good at it. And it's hard to leave. 

Anyway, writing my troubles to nobody.

Off to new adventures, off to pick my pieces back together, off to raising some resilient children.

Publishing: Wanderers

 

Explaining why would be futile. It has been my life for 24 years and almost 10 years since I last published my second poetry book. Still words fail me trying to describe the feeling of silence before pen touches paper and words running their course. Every writer knows it takes cracks in your heart for ink to run over the empty pages. I’ve constantly searched for human voice in this vast universe. “Wanderers” is a bit different, short in numbers but bigger in emotions.

It’s available as paperback or ebook: https://books2read.com/u/bW8KOY

Available on Amazon: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CSZF2LNR

Poem: Explore the hidden caves

 

We’re all just children of the universe. When I say just,

I don’t mean to belittle the role. There is stardust

running through our veins. Our mind a galaxy of wonders.

Yet we’re so caught in the stagnant beliefs and standards

of living we think we need. Our bodies grow up,

and we abandon the spirit of the child living within;

yearning to play, sing, discover, jump, climb,

dance, create… who told you to leave that joy behind,

to hide your true beauty, to diminish your light?

And to exchange it for what?

There is endless power within you,

to relive your past and rewrite

your emotional signature. To heal

and be stronger than before; to let

the light shine through the cracks;

to explore the hidden caves of your

own heart, for you don’t know

the depths of it; to feel all the colours

that reside in there; to let go

of your demons and let

the butterflies loose… and breathe

the future in.

*

Poem: How to heal these wounds?

 

There are doors you wish to never open.

There a paths you wish never to walk.

It’s been raining inside of your heart.

Darkness of you days consuming your thoughts.

You’ve been a prisoner of your own silence.

You whisper into the dead of the night:

“How to heal these wounds?”

Unwrap and unfold, let go of what

you’ve been holding on to.

Do you know the courage of turning a page

and letting go of all that you knew?

When you walk down the crossroads,

wondering which path is yours to take,

remember our lives flow like a river.

It hurts because it matters.

Poem: Homesick heart

Poem: I exhale in the dark blue

 

I exhale in the dark blue,

listening to the song of the wind,

my heart pounding with emotions,

air bears the wisdom of the forest,

of giants and dragons sleeping;

Moon quietly gazing at her

reflection on the surface of the water.

Sadness dripping in my veins,

I’ve swam in it for years,

it lingers even in my voice.

I inhale the freshness

and ask myself: “If not here, then where?”

It’s not written in any book,

nor can any body else know,

it is inside of me, and out there

for me to find out. There is a red

thread connecting all of my days.

I may not know where it leads,

I may have lost my inner compass,

I may have walked a path that was not mine.

I can smell the magic

which brought me here.

Poem: Paint the sky

 

She is trying to describe a thought

without using words. The images

she sees are like pools in which

she swims. Belonging only to her.

Never experienced youth, always

felt older than her age. Outsider

in the roles she got. Her heart

is a forest of colourful trees,

every ring on the trunk carries

a short story of a life lived.

Our sense of who we are

is lost in our illusions

of what we think we should be,

what we think other people

expect us to be. Should we wake,

uncover our blindfolds, and open

our hearts to the person we are.

And paint the sky with our fingertips.

Poem: Anchored in silence

 

Poem: Stain glass castles

 

April rain pouring down with thunder,

caught at a red light; few notes on the radio

and you’re transported into the endless

and careless summer days you’ve had

as a child. Roaming the forests

and meadows in solitude.

You dealt with things as you knew how,

nobody there to hold your hand;

People came and went,

like passengers on the train.

With memories we built

stain glass castles through which

we’ll be looking our whole life.

The colourful shades shadowing

our adult days. Only once

do we walk the path of childhood.

Yet we can revisit anytime;

Peace comes with accepting. 

Poem: The petal rose as butterflies

 

When you do what is expected,

but that doesn’t fill your soul.

You put your foot, one

in front of the other, following

that desire. Do you have the

answer to the question:

“What is it that I need?”

When you’re always waiting,

always searching a way

to escape this moment.

Brokenly looking for a sign

to find your way.

You’re like a stream train

running, but is this path

truly yours? When your soul

is eager to master the blowing wind

and the raging seas.

Your years forming a petal

rose and they transform

into butterflies.

*

Poem: Your shutter is a window to the past

 

Memories reside in your mind,

how tangible do they seem?

There is a constancy you feel to

your character; day to day

you don’t seem to change,

yet when years accumulate

you look at yourself and

question who you have become?

The cells that make your body

have all been replaced several

times in your lifetime. The proof

is there in the photographs

you look at; your shutter is a

window to the past – connecting

you to the moments that may have

gotten lost in the room of your mind.

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Poem: The space between our hearts

Whenever our eyes met, I saw fire burning in your eyes,

the one which you usually dim for others. When I stood

close to you, I felt as if strings from your heart were opening

up mine; as if you’re opening a book, not to read or write

a chapter, but to make me see me in a mirror, which is you.

Our bodies are carrying cracks – the moonlight shines

through them. We glow ever so differently under ever-lasting

light of the universe. Yet there is something familiar

that connects us. The very cells of our hearts. The

timeless journey of atoms circling in our bloodstream.

The space between our hearts

                               intangible. 

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Poem: Dandelion dreams

 

She couldn’t calm her mind easily. Even as a child,

her imagination roamed on long legs; and her mind

hardly kept up with the stories she spoke. Soft and

fragile, yet strong willed she danced through the days.

Chasing her dreams, which flew with the wind, like

dandelion seeds. Guarding her untamed heart,

healing it every time it broke. Staying true to

herself, not letting others sway her thoughts.

I hope your dandelion dreams get to shine bright,

on the big blue sky; I hope to find you there.

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Poem: Echos of the past

 

Memories are echos of the past in your mind,

Captivating you from the present moment,

They give your days a certain weight,

Your heart racing, your breathing heavy,

When you repeat certain emotion.

A moment of what will come next, what will happen to you,

Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,

Roaming around, watching where you're stepping,

Days living on autopilot, as if you're willingly caged,

What does it take to lessen

the seriousness of our fleeting existance?

Why do we extinguish

the passion of our wide-eyed children?

Do not silence the child within you,

he is only asking to be heard

and loved unconditionally.

Poem: Some people

Some people are like acorns,

they fall into the unknown grounds,

and with little sunshine and a little rain,

they sprout, without knowing how,

they grow tall and are a signpost for others,

offering a safe haven in the shades.

Some people look at you,

as if they have stars in their eyes,

milky way at their feet, their thoughts

are echoes of the cosmic winds,

touching you deeply and profoundly,

gently guiding others across the night sky.

Some people have a fire in their hearts,

that no amount of water can put out,

it rages with a passion known only to them,

they burn their bridges and their cords,

from out of that smoke a phoenix rises,

again and again, for they are unstoppable.

Some people are a little lost at sea,

soaked by rain, searching for a current,

constantly plunging from a stream to a waterfall,

the secrets of the deep blue ocean are

written in their bones, maybe that's why,

they are a bit restless, always searching for home.

Poem: of love

Her skin is a shield, yet somehow he managed to reach inside

her heart, with warmth in his eyes and kindness in his voice.

They are walking their own path, yet they cross here and there,

as if they are leading in the same direction. It feels as if it's just

one long journey back to themselves. They know each other's souls.

She asks into the blank darkness of the night: "Do I reside in a corner

of your heart?" There is no reply, just a shiver running through her body.

                                                                                                    He is close by. 

Poem: The act of leaving

 

it's not that I've fallen,

but I feel stuck, as if

I've fallen down the fountain,

and my friends are just

echoes of ghosts in the walls

 

it's not that I've drowned,

but I feel as if, I'm drowning

somewhere deeper into the depths

of the dark hues of the ocean

and I'm neither heard nor seen

 

it's not that I've failed,

but I don't seem to understand

the game they are playing

as if we're actors in a masquerade

and I don't want to play my part

 

it's not that I am eager to leave,

but I don't want to be

living like this any longer

we're all growing, and sometimes

it feels as if we outgrow the space we are in

Poem: I admit

 

Poem: I taught myself

 I taught myself

how to stand still

while the ocean roars inside

 

I taught myself

to never reveal everything

for fear of not fitting in

 

I taught myself

there is beauty

in being who you really are

 

I taught myself

how to tend to my wounds

for in life you have to take care of yourself

 

I taught myself

to be stubborn

otherwise my goals will just laugh at me

 

I taught myself

to think it over

before speaking up

 

through it all… I never taught myself

how to stand in the light

how to raise my voice not to be shut down

how to spend the time that has been given to me

so that when the time is up, I won't have any regrets.

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