words fall like scattered papers
as soft light dressed as afternoon
slips in through the window
illuminated
the room
my desk
my mind
revealed
i can see the torrent of books,
papers, scraps of thought teetering
on the shelves i look and see
stones i had forgotten, old photos in piles
faces from the past that stare balefully at me
landscapes waiting for acrylic birth
when did this happen?
when did i stop to do what comforts me
pulls me in from the whirling,
wraps me in the sweet unknowing and
presses a pen, a brush to my palm
whispering to me
express
instead
frantically overcome
and choking i have sat by this window
forgetting everything
until, like walking into a low tree branch
and crashing to the ground
i wake up
and watch the sun

~la tyson

It’s interesting, because this very question has been going through my mind lately. I have my degree in French and Anthropology and a minor in English. I have often thought about doing my masters in one of these subjects or getting my teaching certificate. If I could go back to school to study anything, I have no idea what it would be. One area of my anthro studies that I have brought with me since graduating is sustainable development. I am lucky in fact because I am applying directly what I learned through my anthro degree to my current job in a non-profit children’s charity. Sustainable development, for me, is key to breaking the cycle of poverty for anyone – in the third world or the first world. I have never given myself the time to write about the topic though, or explore it in a very singular way. I am also very interested in exploring the concept of rural bias in development and how that has impeded sustainability in a global sense. It has – and anecdotally I can write about it, provide hundreds of examples of how resisting that bias would radically change the current approach of NGO’s and charities who seek to develop communities in Africa in particular, but again – I would need to have the time to explore further through those studies that I long left behind, to actually do some practical work.

In the meantime though – I will continue to work with low income families in my community and developing strategies to help them break the cycle of poverty.

I feel this pause
Between breath, no breath
The sky is sapphire
And the birds play in the pines
Their songs float down
Around me like a misty musical rain
The pause lifts itself into the air
Curling and turning
In an upward dance
Like a feather caught on a breeze
The sun shines through the branches
I stand
Held
In this moment
~

Leigh-Anne Tyson

Layers and features
Jumbled
Upside down reflections
In my teaspoon
Light bent
And colours gone mad
Where did I start
Where did I end
Tilted head
Reveals the slope
Of cheek that
Greets the neck
This eye watches
Half closed
As sleep pulls at the lashes
Please
Rest
This chaos
Will still be here
When you wake up

Memory, dreams
Like a mirror
What do the warped edges
And bubbles in the glass
Do to my reflecting?
Like the mirrors
In a funhouse
Sometimes thin ankles
Short and wide
Tall, my god! like the giraffe
(if only seriously)
Or tiny as a mouse

One eye opened
The sunlight shines
Over me through the window
Morning demanding my attention
Once again.
Where is my reflection
Not distorted in polished glass
Or even when covered in
The dust of several lifetimes
In a riot of light and colour
Leaving me disorganized
In my own skin.

~ Leigh-Anne Tyson

night comes with autumn
dressed in shadows
lines of Blake wind
their way through my head
Cohen's voice hangs on my shoulders
like a familiar, warm embrace
out of corners the shadows move
forms and turning
pulling me
away or towards
I can’t tell which
any longer

notes and rhythm fill the evening
memories dotted with staccato beats
smiles and deeper thoughts
woven and mended

where is no longer floating
or why – the endless search
so I thought once-
no, I found them sleeping
curled together on the red pillows
thrown carelessly at my feet
stretched out and relaxed
as though there was nothing wrong
in fact, there never was

I crawl out from inside of myself
and the rest
stretch, prepare to sleep too
after so long,
outside the cool November air
reminds me that autumn is
my time

~ Leigh-Anne Tyson

This is what you get…
When the black curtains are drawn tightly
Over the windows and
The moonlight struggles to find her way inside
This is what you get when the doors are closed and locked
And everything is shut
Out

This bulging here against the glass
Look where I am pointing….
And here the wood that is splitting against the pressure
And here where the foundation has cracked
Look the rafters are caving
And the ceiling droops from the heaving attic
Wait now, soon it will collapse

Here take my hand my friend,
Mind the falling shards and bits of stone
Step around here
Oh and here as well the chasm seems to have grown
But listen
Do you hear that rush of water
Racing towards the edge of stone waiting
No not even waiting to leap
Leaping into the air and
Falling into cool sweet pools below

This is what you get my dear
When everything falls apart

When the falling is done
When the first drop of water reaches
The beautiful, still face of the pool
And kisses its new love with such passion
That there is no turning back

This is where we begin.
When it all falls apart

This is where we begin
In the end
~

shhhh twenty percent
sleeps
inside me
and even awake
slams the door
shut tight
and to the world
says a big fuck you
and thank you very much
leave me alone already
i don't want you or your help
your words are empty and shallow
nothing that is what you mean
to me.
period

shhhh twenty percent
sleeps oblivious/ indifferent
another twenty percent
happy in the sunshine
puppy dog eyes and watching
heart full to overflowing
waiting for the next message
for the overwhelming excitement
to spirit me away
the soft touch
of my palm to yours
to follow
each word to the letter

shhhh 20%
sleeps
20% follows
and the rest -
the chaotic milling
and pacing
of the rest of my 100% -
is milling and pacing chaotically
weaving over the line
drifting towards the ditch
swaying with the breeze
no matter how rank or sweet
it might be
following and stopping
looking and searching
raging and crying
hoping and laughing
in prayer before dying

shhh we are sleeping
and do not want to be disturbed

hallelujah we singing
and you are preaching to the choir

please we are waiting
and want to know the truth

we are the rest of us
dressed in the folds of a sweater
on this cool day in November
housed in this body,
standing dazed and confused
in this sunshine and crisp air
convince and caress
embrace and hold close
at the very least
help us to see that
it is in fact a path
we’ve been standing on
all along
all we want is something
something to quench our
thirst

what now for those
who slammed the door shut?
what language for them ?
what energy on aiding
those who are adamantly deaf?
What now for those who follow
Blindly into bliss and need no
Convincing in the light?
What now for the rest
Who simply do not know
And wrestle with shame and doubt
Anger and confusion
Joy and love and happiness?
What now for them?
What now…..

You inside of me, may sleep
Keep your hardened self a seed
Whose shell is unbroken and
Shriveled

You inside of me, may rejoice
In the freedom you find in the light
Bloom and spread your wings
- dream and dream and dream

finally you – you who cower and question
and love and cry inside of me
you may wonder
you may live
you may pray
you may love
in your prayers before dying
know that you are
and that is all.

~ la tyson