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Writing - Poetry - The Freedom Between my Thighs

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Writing - Poetry - The Freedom Between my Thighs

The Freedom Between my Thighs- (written in 2014, edited 2020) by Yvette Hess   The Freedom between my thighs Consoles his fears Of being a smaller man, A lesser man By consuming me.   Fists aim for the sky But land on either eye- I’m blinded by promises, Once again left Empty. My insides hate me for allowing His bitter tongue to taste me. So I wait for the lashings daily Expectant, Pregnant with the truth Pregnant with his fruit Ignorant to the fact that I can escape: And live life full, Not bruised, Not used. Not only seeing black...

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Writing - Sweet Regret - Poetry - 2011

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Writing - Sweet Regret - Poetry - 2011

Oh Regret, I see you have come to visit again. We used to spend day and night together, Yes, I remember those times. I was young and you were bitter. Sweet Regret, This time your visits are shorter, Less bitter. Maybe it’s in the weather? Maybe it’s you- You’ve changed for the better. Your friends, Disappointment, grief and heartache have come along too. That’s fine- let them in. We can all gather round and have some tea. I’m so much braver now you see. Let me tell you straight to your face, Regret. I no longer fret. I have lived. I live still, not...

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Writing - “I watch the Waves” - 2020 - Poetry

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Writing - “I watch the Waves” - 2020 -  Poetry

I watch the waves crashing, coming for me, then easing back - becoming the whole body. Sometimes I catch the moment it breaks- I hear the ache as it crashes into itself. It slowly fizzles all the way until that fizz reaches to greet me Right at my feet: Fresh and Pure. And forgiving. A new wave has come and gone. I stay watching. Tomorrow the pull will be different and the waves will be too. It's all water, Moving. I watch, as the One between sea and sky Just as the Moon above sky and sea.

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Writing - “Shape of Home” - 2018 - Poetry

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Writing - “Shape of Home” - 2018 - Poetry

If I’m shaped by all my experiences, then why am I left feeling hollow? “Make space, make space!” They say. There’s more of them to home. Aren’t you lucky that I’m open? Open to receive and give and give.   Why am I the space you occupy? Why am I the space to gather round, To sing your war songs, your silent cries. While I- Constantly swallow the gratitude of being the space you call home.   Yet all I want to feel is home again To feel like I belong in my skin, again. In this mind, and soul,...

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Writing - a birthday poem for Cayden

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Writing - a birthday poem for Cayden

A poem for my eldest son, Cayden, on his 14th birthday. A dedication to him and the waking up to adulthood and awareness.

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