A Diary From Noone

She spoke but no one heard, every scream seemed a whisper, and so she took pen to paper...

Tag: #sea

Christmas at Sea…

What a wonderful thing that it would be be,
To have a jolly old family Christmas at Sea.
It’s finally December you see, A glorious time for festivity.
Bobbing along,
Singing Christmas song,
Whilst the bells from land ring a ding dong.
We hope many presents Santa shall bring,
Despite there being no chimney or ceiling.
Stuffing their faces with mince pies,
The children unusually quiet,
Trying to repent for the last year’s white lies,
Im order to not miss out on gifts and surprise.
Adults drink cider and mulled wine,
Lossening their belts,
Preparing to heavily dine devine.
Music now blasts from the radio,
Playing all the classic songs.
Feet tap under the table to the familiar beat,
As candid vibrations jiggle from seat to seat.
Turkey and all the trimmings,
A toast to new beginnings.
This Christmas spent at Sea,
Was perfect for that family,
And everything they wanted it to be.

Nanny’s Nursey Rhyme

My Nanny Sarah is a character and a half. Perhaps one day I shall write her story and share her range of tales from bitter to sweet and all that is in between, as my Grandmother has had a very eventful life. Now eighty-eight years of age, with the beginnings of dementia, often happily she repeats the following Nursery Rhyme. A rhyme that represents promise, hope and excitement. Now a days with global warming and the threat of Brexit, the wrongful shenanigans re. The Windrush era and threat of British entitlement being removed from those that gave up everything, their homes, loved ones, history, brainwashed and promised that England and their Queen across the sea’s would welcome my ancestors with open and welcoming arms, permitting them to walk the streets pathed with gold, bathed in equality, flourishing with employment, good wages, better opportunity, happiness and freedom. Groomed from a young age, with nursery rhymes such as these, how shocked they must have been at the cruel, ignorant, brutality that they were showered with once stepping off the great ships on voyage to glory, but strength and perseverance, resistance and determination carried them through the horrors first endured, “No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish”! Now myself being 2nd generation British, be it swept under the carpet, I must not forget, we must not forget, the fight that was had and sadly in many ways still is, for the entitlement in which I am in receipt of today, I am a Black British Woman with Caribbean heritage, we have come a long way, but we still have a long way to go.

“When I leave school,
I means to go away,
To see how other people work and play,
I need to take a trip across the sea,
Of cause I mean the ship must take me,
And then I’ll go to England,
France,
Germany,
And Spain,
And even then,
I won’t come home again!”

Was that rhyme so embed into my Nanny’s head, that some years later she indeed took a ship to England? She did go home again, but only to holiday. I am one of the fortunate grandchildren that got to go back to Montserrat with my Nan, but England for better or worse became her home and Birmingham City, the place of birth to my Mother, her siblings, many of my cousins and I. I wonder what my life would have been like if she stayed overseas!? Now in reverse, the Caribbean is the destination across the sea and has a place in Nan’s heart, full of memory and she most likely will never go home again. Although she has actually spent the majority of her life in England and so Great Britain is her home, now the only one dreaming about across the sea, is me, I don’t know to much about the living lifestyle in the Caribbean today, but I do know that Great Britain disappointingly isn’t so Great!

Tide Of Mentality…

The tide of my illness,
drifts as fluently as the current of the Sea,
And as storms,
And Tsunami’s cannot be tamed,
Neither can the turbulence of my poisonous mentality,
Evoking pain,
And catastrophe,
Wherever I roam,
Wherever I shall be,
I cannot cease,
What is a genetic part of me,
Man has power,
But only acts of God,
Determine our destiny.

The heart of Malaga

As I sit in this holy place,
I try to make sense of what is and can be,
Does faith draw in tranquility?
Or does tranquility draw in faith?
I don’t suppose either/or really matters,
What matters is that one is at one with one’s self,
Enabling us to feel joy and purpose in the presence of life.
Religion can make you feel alive,
Part of a community,
Loved,
Heard,
Significant
And understood,
But it can also cause terror,
Ostracise people,
Take away your voice,
Label you impure or a sinner,
Shun you,
Leaving you feeling judged,
Disconnected,
In doubt of all that you know and rules that you abide,
And extremely misunderstood!
My question is,
Is there a happy medium?
Sitting in this aesthetically beautiful church building,
With monumental history,
Draped like the crown jewels throughout,
It exuberates wealth,
With lavish gold architecture.
It oozes with glamor and fortune,
Quite the opposite from humble tranquility.
I know not the correct answer to my question.
I know not how I feel entirely,
Being agnostic and all,
But despite the grand facade of gold and riches,
Despite my reservations of religion when in comparison to science,
This place still seems somewhat sacred.
Whether it be the familiar and universal pattern of service from the priest?
The people from near and far,
Foreign and native in prayer?
I do most definitely feel welcome here,
And perhaps,
Admittedly,
A tingle of God’s presence.
Faith did not lead me there,
Nor a desire for tranquility,
It was more about curiosity,
But I believe I left with a little of both,
How long it will last,
I cannot guarantee,
But I definitely left with a slice of faith and tranquility.

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