If I was safe

If I was safe

I would go out for walks in the middle of the

night just to enjoy the peace and the beauty 

of the night sky

If I was safe

I would go out wearing whatever I want,

wearing revealing clothes because I wouldn't

be worried about being assaulted and then

victim blamed for it

If I was safe

I would go on a first date for a walk

somewhere beautiful in nature where there

aren't other people around

If I was safe

I would leave the house alone without 

my phone

If I was safe

I would say thank you and accept the offer 

when a man I don't know offers to buy me 

a drink in a club

If I was safe

I would enjoy walking home at night instead of spending

the whole time just hoping I 

get home alive and safe

If I was safe

I wouldn't feel the fear rise in my chest when I walk past

a group of men in the street

If I was safe

Talking with men on dating apps would be fun 

because I wouldn't be analyzing fearfully

to see if they're safe and genuine

If I was safe

I would have so much more joy and freedom

and confidence and peace in the world

A Rush of Green

 I thought that I could never trade my blue for green

That the ripple of the sea could never be

surpassed by the rustle of the leaves

But what I didn't realise

Is that you can bathe in the forest 

Like you can bathe in the ocean,

That a rush of green can be as soothing 

As the rush of blue waves,

That you can be cleansed and protected by 

The branches embrace,

Warm and wise, nurturing and strong

Hovering over in earnest generosity,

Just as you can be comforted by the 

vastness of the brilliant blue ocean...

You can be immersed in the sea of grass,

In the endless stretching of fields and hills,

As wide and as wavering as the expansive 

blue ocean, rippling endlessly with infinite

beauty

I went to the sea and it wasn't the same

There's a country that hangs in my heart

A country that I mourn for, long for,

that I weep for,

A country that I still call home.

And the country I once called home,

although it never really felt like one,

feels more alien to me now than ever.

The sound of English accents around me

seem cold and unfamiliar,

like distant echoes 

ringing in my ears.

The affluence, the feeling of

rigidity,

the sense of conformity,

in one form or other,

The bohemians with their vans

living for the aesthetic and

the sense of personal freedom,

amidst this feeling of idyllic suffocation.

So contrasting to the wildness,

the mysterious magnificence of the hills and mountains

that awoke a rawness within,

The warmth of the people,

The sound of the Welsh language,

the beauty of their history and heritage,

The aliveness,

the togetherness,

the feeling that people cared

about the important things,

And cared nothing for the fashion, trends,

image and individualism.

True freedom,

and the rush of the roaring waves,

The unapologetic storms and gales,

the sound of fiddles, banjoes and harps

on the streets and in the pubs,

the ancientness,

The passion of a place that refused to be quiet

with its beauty,

A place so small yet so powerful,

It could latch onto your heart

and never let you go.

It could make you dream of it,

long for it,

long to be home.