Tag Archives: faith

Becoming a Woman



I cannot recall the moment I became a woman.

Nor the day.

Or the year.

It wasn’t the day I put on my first pad, walked in high heels, or lost my virginity.

It wasn’t magical, but it was life altering.

Maybe it was the day the news got sadder instead of boring.

Maybe it was the day I fixed my own broken heart.

Maybe it was the day I realized family was a lot more than blood.

Maybe it was the day I stopped allowing people to define me.

I became a woman,

During the years learning to love the girl inside of me.



Taking for Granted

Taking for Granted

In Africa a frail women balances a clay pot on her head, carrying cloudy water to her four children so they can have a drink of water to fill their grumbling bellies.

In Iraq a small boy is cowering behind his rusted shack, covering his ears in a weak attempt to block out the screaming and the roar of bombs that terrorizes his home village.

In China a teenage girl gags on the toxic air, forced to wear a mask just to breathe and walk down the overcrowded streets.

In Mexico a toddler plays with a broken bottle he found on the beach, among the heaps of trash washed up onto the shore.

In India a nine year old girl is sold by her family into slavery so they could pay for their son’s education.

Yet in Canada I get up and drink a big glass of water from my well.

In Canada I’ve only watched action movies with the explosions of guns and bombs.

In Canada I walk outside in the morning surrounded by pines and maple trees and inhale the crisp air.

In Canada I put out my garbage every Thursday morning so it can disappear when the truck comes.

In Canada I have my own education where an unlimited world of knowledge awaits me.

I’ve been blessed to live in Canada, a paradise too many take for granted.



Planting The Seed

Planting The Seed

The Devil is lurking


For an innocent soul

To corrupt

The night is long

For all

As he discovers his victim

Dreaming peacefully

A little girl of three

Sweet and naïve

Curled up around her teddy bear

As the devil draws near

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A Walk in the Woods

A Walk in the Woods

I deeply inhale the earthy smell of dirt as I navigate my way through the Canadian wilderness found in my backyard, where countless acres of pine and maple trees are here for me to discover. Brightly colored leaves crunch underfoot as the cool October breeze tickles my naked arms. Crickets chirp their melodies as the setting sun casts a fiery glow across the clear sky. The wet smell of moss hits me; my feet sink softly in the thick texture of the moss that blankets the forest floor, absorbing my weight like a pillow. I get lost in the temperate paradise that quiets my worries and sparks my brilliant spirit. The maple trees’ bark is rough beneath my fingertips as I trace the worn lines embedded from years of exposure to the seasons. The soothing environment always brings me back throughout the past 16 years of my life; the branches beckon me home.

My feet beat on the uneven ground as my speed quickens; I dart between the trees that scratch at my exposed skin. A smile blooms from ear-to-ear, my momentum hurtling me over fallen trees as critters scatter in alarm at their disturb peace. I chase the retreating sun to no avail. My breath comes out in short rasps, hot on my tongue, as I push my body to its limit; my arms and legs pump rapidly, feeding from the hot adrenaline coursing through my veins. As I reach the embankment of the river I halt, closing my eyes. The sound of rushing water is intoxicating, echoing inside my head, drowning out the thumping of my beating heart. I am at peace in my home.

The air is thick with the hazy twilight mist; I can taste the clean, cool water as it collects on my tongue. The nighttime critters begin to wake from their sleep and prowl the night. Frogs croak restlessly, content on the riverside. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the temperature rapidly drops along with the receding sun. Dozens of stars appear like old friends, diamonds in the clear sky. I settle down, leaning against the trunk of an ancient birch; its lower branches embrace me like a lover. It whispers to me its secrets as I rest, my heart slowing to a steady pump. I can see the footprints in the mud of foxes and deer, revealing a path that another life has followed.

The ground is damp, water moistening the back of my legs and my butt as it absorbs through my worn blue jeans. The water lazily flows, a sweet lullaby. My fingers comb through the long grass, catching on twigs that have fallen from their home in the trees. My tense muscles relax and thoughts quiet as darkness finally envelopes the forest. The only light is cast by the full moon that shines boldly in the black sky. I am entranced by the display, not daring to move and break this illusion of peace and quiet. Worries shed like the bark on a birch tree, peeling away layer by layer to reveal the new pink skin beneath. I lean my head against the hard trunk of the tree, and slip away into my dreams.

Overprotective Mothers

Overprotective Mothers

The line that was overused by my mother growing up irritated me to no end, “It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s the other people that I don’t trust”. Let’s get this straight: My mom is overprotective, teeth-gritting, hair-pulling overprotective. She might as well have shoved me in the kennel alongside my Labrador so she could’ve kept a better eye on my 12-year-old antics. I was not alone. Many teenagers live in a shadow of overprotective mothers but it is time to step out of the shadow and shed light on the reality of the situation our mothers are facing: the safety of their children. I learned a valuable lesson one day: that mothers always hold their children close to keep them safe, not to punish them.
It was a shopping day for my mother, my sisters and I; we were only able to make the 3 hour trip to Fredericton a few times a year from our remote and rural village of Plaster Rock. Excitement, and possibly a touch of car sickness, bubbled in my stomach as we entered Fredericton. It was time to get some confidence-boosting new clothes to show off in the hallways of our school on Monday morning. Parking in the crowded lot of the Regent Mall proved a hassle, which wasn’t surprising on a sunny Saturday afternoon at the end of summer vacation. Once mom parked the SUV in the spot farthest away from the entrance, (Mom didn’t want a single scratch or dent on her baby), we piled out and stretched; our muscles creaked and groaned from the car ride.
I set off first, all determination and purpose, but my mom hollered my name and I halted, inwardly groaning at the predictable delay. I spun on my heel and faced my mother, who was searching her oversized-20-pound purse for her phone.
“Ah-ha!” she took out her phone and advised me in her ‘stern’ tone, “Try to stay with your sisters please.”
“But Mummmm,” I couldn’t help but whine. I mean, my sisters were so slow, “Why don’t you trust me?”
Oh wait, oh no, she sucked in some air. Wait for it… “It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s the other people that I don’t trust.” Bam! So predictable.
I’m a lone ranger, so I make the worst shopping partner ever. I go at my own pace looking at and trying on whatever catches my eye and then speed walking from store to store. I could hardly keep track of myself, let alone my sisters who were annoying me that day.
The worst part was my mom actually thought that I was going to get abducted. Not that I was brushing aside the possibility; I wasn’t that naïve. I knew that the majority of my Kung-Fu skills came from watching Kung-Fu Panda and Karate Kid as a child, but have a little faith in me Mom. Bummed but not defeated, I plastered on my best innocent smile and nodded enthusiastically. I topped it off by waiting for my sisters to catch up at a painful pace, and followed them inside. Once my mom went out of sight, I took off alone.
That afternoon went by uneventfully; I got a new assortment of clothing: jeans, blouses, bras and leggings, the teenage female ‘essentials’. Mom hadn’t texted me in a tizzy yet for flying solo that day. She shouldn’t have been surprised really, since I did this every time we went somewhere. Honestly, I was, and still am, an overprotective mother’s nightmare.
Outside of Ardenes, I decided to take a well-earned break and plopped myself down on an empty bench. I was texting my sisters my whereabouts when I heard a wail coming from Toys R Us behind me. Thinking that a child didn’t get his Play-Doh, I turned in my seat to view the spectacle. Shockingly, the wail actually came from an older woman at the cash. She was hysterical as she begged the poor cashier to check the back rooms.
“He is only a little baby,” she sobbed, “I-I look away for one second, and-and-“, she buried her face in her hands, mortified by her behavior. The cashier, a young male who was probably planning his next employment, picked up the phone and had a quick conversation with the person on the other end. A middle-aged woman with the air of importance strode from the backroom and spoke some soothing words to the panicked mother. The mother nodded her head while wiping her puffy, red eyes, and attempted to steady her shaky breathing. She followed the woman into the backroom, and after about 10 minutes, they came back out shaking their heads, empty handed.
“Hey Mommy!!” A little boy stuck his head out from one of the plastic cars in the display case, “Look at me! I’m a good hider aren’t I?” He beamed with pride of his accomplishment. 
If I could have taken a picture of this moment, it would have been a treasure. Capturing the expression of joy, anguish, fury, love and relief that shone through the mother’s face when her eyes found her baby boy, who was now safe and sound, moved me. It struck a chord in me, all too familiar, of my daily antics I performed on my mom. I was then ashamed of myself and the worry I have caused my mom, even though harming her psychologically was never my intention; I just had a free, independent spirit. As I watched his mother sweeping him into her arms, laughing off her anxiety, I understood children are not put on a tight leash to be punished, but it’s our mother’s way of keeping us safe.
Later on, once my mom realized I went off on my own again, she was frustrated but not surprised. She expected it by now, with her lecture well-practiced and ready on the tip of her tongue, yet I realized that didn’t ease her constant worry for me. Even though I don’t fully understand the nature of mothers, since I’m thankfully not one myself, I respect her more now for what she has and continually endured because of me. When I get annoyed now by my mom’s constant nagging and frequent checking-in, I remind myself of the mother in the Toys R Us. I realized a mother’s love will always have her searching for her children no matter where they go or how old they get.

The Life I Left Behind

The Life I Left Behind

A smile dances on my lips,
Laughter bubbles in my chest,
My mind soars to new heights,
My worries put to rest.

Working like a dog,
Sweating blood and tears,
Day and night, I built a life,
So now happiness found me here.

I could’ve whined and complained,
Cursed the unfairness of it all,
Got stuck in the poverty I was in,
Yet a better life calls.

Through storms and hurricanes,
I grew wings and learned to fly,
Never looking back,
On the life I left behind.

An Underwater Feeling

An Underwater Feeling

  Breathe in.

               Breathe out.

Quiet, can’t let him know I’m here. Yet I’m curious. Like an itch that must be scratched, I pull back the blanket that conceals my presence under my single bed. I can see thousands of tiny dust particles threw the light that shines through the crack, floating and undisturbed by my escalating heart rate. I peer around my bedroom that I have inhabited since I moved here five years ago with my Mother.

Things have changed so much since then.

I see my discarded clothing on the floor from yesterday; I see my tenth grade math textbook and long forgotten homework stack in the corner. I can make out the bottom of my black dresser and bookcase, stuffed full of the only footprints I have left so far in the world.

And now I can see the door swinging open and crashing into the wall, shaking the one story house on the back roads of Fredericton. I quickly let go of the blanket as my stepfather’s boots come into sight.

But I am not, and was never, fast enough.

`              “You think you can hide from me you little bitch!” He roars as his footsteps come towards the bed. I shrink against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut, praying to dissolve into dust.

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To all the people who have felt. Owned a bitter ache in their chest in a heart too big for the rib cage that holds it. Held on to hope so tight that it left angry burns on your hands. Screamed so loud that you throat is raw and bleeding. Ran so hard to escape the truth your feet are sore and blistered. Cried your own oceans of salty tears.

I applaud you.

Not only that, but I understand you.

You wouldn’t know though, because pain tends to isolate you into your own cage of the sub-conscious mind. Stripping away the support and hands reaching out to rescue you. We punish ourselves into a subconscious suicide, suffering until either our body and minds cave.

I wouldn’t call life a road we follow, I call it a desert. Too many different directions and choices to make. Too easy to veer off course. Never sure if you’ve already been there, making circles. An endless assault of weather pummeling into you, beating you down. No footprints to follow, your own disappearing into the depths of the sand. Craving that place that has been promised to you after your suffering, yet you’ve never seen it. Possibly not even there.

Do I believe in God? The God surmounted on top of everything, watching us? I pray yo him every night. Does that mean im sure? No. Does this mean that i dont have faith that he exists? Hell no.

I’m like everyone else, looking for comfort, reassurance. Prayer helps me achieve that. I don’t know why. I haven’t even been baptised, and I’m sure that I ever will. I just tinker with the image of it.

Sometimes I believe I am unworthy.

Scratch that, I believe that I’ll do it, and then ill have this huge commitment to fore fill. I’m pathetically afraid of making a commitment that I might not keep. But I suppose faith is something that you believe in that has no complete, solid proof that its there. You cant have faith in science, because its been proven. Religion is faith. Doesn’t matter what religion, as long as you believe its there. Everyone has faith in something, whether they know it or not.

So when someone says, “I have nothing,” say “Find your faith.”