Benita Loff

First flings are funny but the
day it ends is not.
Of(f) mountain edges we want to
spring, but cling ferociously to
I: I will, I won’t, I want him, I don’t
keep racing through our
thinking – and then our hearts make a turn
about and around – dancing our souls out of
the doldrums which had us mourning the
end – and now we can smell the softness
of spring and say farewell to
Autumn.

Personally speaking …


First flings are funny but the
day it ends is not.
Of-f mountain edges I want to
spring, but cling ferociously to
I: I will, I won’t, I want him, I don’t
keep racing through my
thinking – and then my heart makes a turn
about and around – dancing my soul out of
the doldrums which had me mourning the
end – and now I can smell the softness
of spring and say farewell to
autumn.

Benita Loff

Accepting the shame or the morning after the binge the night before

Feeling, not feeling? I don’t know. I’m small like a little bud, tightly folded unto myself. My heart is tight, my throat is tight, I can hardly breathe. I don’t even know what I’m feeling or not feeling. Just don’t let anyone know. Unhappy? Yes, probably. Small. Stuck. Stuck in this shell of not wanting to be. My tears are almost brimming over, there’s some sniffing, but no spilling over. No, don’t let anyone see. Just make it all go away. Stuff that hole with chocolate and big fluffy pastry sweetness, salty chips and oozing sausages on thick white rolls. All eaten secretly. Sssss. (shhh?) Don’t let anybody know. Don’t let them know how bad I am, how undeserving. Hit me, hit me hard. I’m not human, I don’t deserve to live.

Help.

And the miracle happens. I’m told to write. The night passes and the curtain is opened wide. The sun streams in and my eyes are suddenly clear. I can feel the warmth. I feel my heart burst open; I take a deep breath.

‘Yes’, I say, ‘love me. I am fully human. I can stand on full feet.’

I feel the soft earth under me, embracing me. I fling my arms wide.

I say, ‘Thank you.’

I say, ‘I am.’

I say, ‘I can …

love.’

Benita Loff

Seeing fairies

Wrestling my self down. How? I have to look
into my eyes, look in the mirror and connect
with the me

lurking behind the brown, behind
the pupils, behind the cornea. It’s called Eye
Contact.

A question asked to determine if someone is on
the autistic spectrum is “can he make
eye contact?”

They talk about the light
hurting his eyes, about vitamin A deficiency.
Fairies

can’t be looked at straight either. If you want
to see them you have to protect them
from the glare

of your human life force and glance
from the sides of your eyes.
Like Luca,

my autistic son, does when he meets
someone new. Try it, Try quick glances. Even with those
glances

you will be able to see something. And
who knows, you might like what you see.
And if

you’re still too scared, keep the fire extinguisher
ready. Now,
ready, steady,

see…?