In the glow of a winters frozen moon.

This poem was inspired by a line

«In the glow of a winters frozen moon»

from my good friend https://

blogofthewolfboy.com

and is Mathew who is the author behind this blog.

When I read that line.. my mind and brain went crazy. Words started to spin and squeeze into my writing arm and I just had to let the ink dance over the paper.

I am honored to call you my friend.

Thank you Mathew.

//

In the glow of a winters frozen moon

In the wilderness night she is trying to

create her own snow angel with hope

she can sparkle togheter with the snow

crystals in the moonlight

tears falls down her cheek finding

their own ways in her skin

unresolved

her sadness is the gateway to redemption

to know her sadness in silence

she is searching for something she can’t

reach

she is off the deep end

will she awaken the phoenix or

the demons in your soul

in the embers of broken hearts her life

is a shadow of ghosts in darkrising

and she will never shine anywhere

but in the moonlight

she whisper your name gazing at the moon

among with the rustling autumn brown

leavs from last year

vulnerable

in the glow of a winters frozen moon

you are the silhouette of her heart in

every painful moments

until their hearts touch she is just a vibe

you can’t find nowhere else.

-Orkidedatter-

A heart of tears… who is she…

I have been unsure of posting this, but the words mean so much to me – I slightly light the veil and show a little of myself today…
– I think it is a little bit scary and it is with many mixed feelings, Orkidedatter shows a bit of who she is behind all these words on this blog ..

-I am so Grateful from deep in my heart and soul to you readers and followers. Thank you so much.

Hjertets tårer the heart of tears who is she Norwegian blogger blogger Norway

She tries to find peace because her heart

will grow.

It’s beautiful, but worn.

The edges are sharp all the way around.

It has been attempted repaired. With

needle and thread or patch.

If you look closely, you can see the shade of

the patch torn off time and again.

Looking even further in, at the back of the

heart, you can glimpse a face.

It can become clearer the more you see, or

more like the shadows waving in the wind.

Unclear with black color that slides into

each other and it becomes difficult to put

into words – who it is –

You realize that the face belongs to the

heart, because they are equally ghostly.

She turns her face away in disgust and

loathing.

It storms in the heart’s rhythm.

Faster and faster, she will not be anymore,

but it will not go away.

It is like thorns from «the black rose» being

thrown at her, and she feels an

indescribable pain in her heart.

In the face behind the heart tears flow like

a waterfall.

As a veil, they lay around her heart and dig

«the river of tears» bigger and deeper.

Can she fix it?

Can she be whole again?

Is the last flame extinguished?

She feels her heart, breathes deep, tries to

find calm and feel her own heart beating.

They said it would be good again ….

I don’t

need to take care of memories that aren’t

good for me anymore.

She wipes away the tears that quietly fall

down her cheek.

Her body remembers.

The heart knows.

Her mind can trick her.

All of the emotions and experiences are

stuck in her body as the pain of a thorn-

they scream the worst she senses-

Her body is crying for help, her soul is

working on a blow to heal, her mind is

trying to work with heart.

And her heart … she tries the best she can

to put it back together so she can move on

in life.

With a heart full of scars she begins to feel

the various nerves. They are there as black

paths. Trails she never wants to join, but

they must be in ok condition.

They’ll be with her to the end of life and

she’ll try everything she can to make new

paths bright and beautiful next to the dark

ones…

-Orkidedatter-

(Thank you very much to my aunt child who made me makeup this day)

My Black Stallion

When no one can save her

invisible heroes

she takes her Black Stallion with a name

after the dark, shines blue in

the sun’s rays

gallops into the sunset

freedom

maybe this time memories

fade into the ocean

dreams are so alive

day’s like a slow train ticking by

all she can hear is your

words haunting her

can’t get the melody out of her mind

she wonder if she is past the

point of rescue

often she hope her life is a fairytale

in a horror movie

she can’t close the door to her heart

she swears she never fall like this again.

-Orkidedatter-

Love

If I throw

away my fears

If I release my beauty inside

If I share everything about myself

If I open up and let you in to my

crying shadow

If I give you the key

to my secret chest deep

inside me

If I give you my last dance

with my soul

in the name of love

– who am I…

🦋

-Orkidedatter-

Norwegian force

(English text after the Norwegian text)

En strøm av følelser som

skyller igjennom hennes kropp.

Der blodet bruser igjennom hennes årer,

og hun kan føle den Norske urkraften tar

henne tilbake i en svunnen tid.

På fjellets topp hun strekker armene i

været og

kan føle alle de tapte sjeler som prøver

og finne hjem.

Hjerterytmen er som store trommer

som omgir hele naturens egen skjønnhet

med sterke rytmer.

Hennes hud kan sanse den

magiske kraften som

stiger opp bak

fjellene og blir i ett

med himmelen .

Hun har et bål i hjerte

som gnistrer av energi.

Hennes ånd føler seg fri

der den danser i nordlyset.

-Orkidedatter-

//

A stream of emotions

rinsing through her body.

Where the blood bubbled

through her veins,

and she can feel the

Norwegian force take

her back in a bygone era.

At the top of the mountain

she stretches her arms out

and can feel all the lost souls

who try to find home.

The heart rhythm is like

a large drum that surrounds

the whole of nature’s own beauty

with strong rhythms.

Her skin can sense the magic

power that rises up the hills

and stays in one with the sky.

She has a bonfire in her heart -like

sparkles of energy.

Her spirit feels the peace,

it dances in the

Northern Lights.

-Orkidedatter-

Life seeds…

(This post in only in English)

(I’m not quite sure if you can read the text well in the picture, so I write it as well)…

As she saw the

shadows moving

slowly, so she felt her heartbeat in

her chest,

the moon’s magic myth spread around her

and she felt cold.

The shadows glanced around her heart,

the moonlight shining

on her face

writhing in pain,

and her soul fighting

for her juctice to

life that was about

to end. Worn she lay

on the ground

and scratched.

Into eternity she

was to win and

the seeds of

life were sown.

-Orkidedatter-

Shadows on the barn

(English text after the Norwegian text).

Jeg fikk en utfordring fra min mann på wordpress: Skogens sønn på instagram:  Skogens sønn

Han ba meg skrive noen ord til dette bilde som er fra vår låve på gården: 

I solnedgangens vakre bris

speiler skyggene av naturens skjønnhet

seg i kjærlighetens farge.

I ett med naturen og under frihetens tegn

drømte hun at hun danset.

Hun danset i takt med suset fra trærne

og fra hennes hjerterytme.

Vinden rusket i hennes lange lyse hår

og hennes sommerkjole omkranset hennes skjøre kropp.

Skyggene beveget seg i sampsill med hennes sinn og sjel.

Hun satte spor i vårdugget gress som forsiktig

ble visket ut av mørkets stillhet

som la seg som en kappe over naturens landskap.

Skyggene danset sin vei inn i hennes følelsesmessige

evighet.

-Lillian- 

//

Poem: The shadows on the barn:

I got a challenge from my husband  on wordpress: Skogens sønn on instagram: Skogens sønn and I couldn’t let go of it.

He asked me to write some words to this picture that is from our barn on the farm:

Dette bildet har et tomt alt-attributt, og filnavnet er img_8147.jpg

In the beautiful breeze of the sunset

the shadows mirror nature beauty is

in the color of love.

In one with nature and under the sign

of freedom she dreamed

that she was dancing.

She danced in step with the rush of the trees

and from her heartbeat.

The wind shook in her long light hair

and hers summer dress surrounded

her fragile body.

The shadows moved in interaction with her

mind and soul.

She put her tacks in spring-feathered grassas

gently was wiped out by the silence of darkness

that lay down as a robe over nature’s landscape.

The shadows danced their way into her emotional

eternity.

-Lillian- 

Vulnerability and strength.

Strenght vulnerability Norwegian blogger Norwegian blood guidance carrie guidance in Norway

From many youth I have given guidedance, several have asked me this question.

– How do you balance your vulnerability with your strength?
She sat there so beautiful and friendly and I think she possesses exactly the same herself. It is difficult to enter into itself. I’m better at seeing others and getting underneath the «skin» on them and telling them exactly how they are …

I thought it was a very good question. I don’t know if I have a very good answer.

I look a little bit around me and take a look out the window. It looked a little lifeless out there. Everything is almost like a black and white film. I fit in right now …I think…

I chewed my lips and thought so it broke. Her questions went over and over again in my head.

So far, I haven’t thought about this before.

In my head I thought me saw an old-fashioned weight where I put the word «vulnerability» in one bowl and «strength» in the other bowl. I saw them lying there  and tilted back and forth.

equilibrium

– Too much weight «vulnerability» or too little

– Too much weight «strength» or too little

Back and forth …. back and forth ….. knew I was totally dizzy of this…

I know she wanted an answer, I look at her, I could see that she is waiting.
Typical.

I look at her and smile and my voice almost doesn’t carry, but I say

Being vulnerable, I think it often comes with being weak, unwanted and fearful. Much of this surrounds my childhood. Weak in the negative sense. I have since grown older that it is not like that. I recognize my vulnerability and know that it is a good feature or a good description of me. Being vulnerable means I am humble, have insight, understanding, hope, see opportunities, and have a warm heart for others. Being vulnerable or weak does not mean that I give up, but that I can let go of something or that I simply get up again when I «fell» …

At the same time, the «vulnerability» can catch me and I feel scared again. When this happens, I must relate to my thoughts. One set of thoughts that are not of the positive kind. Then thoughts of not being good enough and poor self-esteem will grow freely. Thoughts of insecurity, shy and fear spread. So for me, «vulnerability» is about actually weighing this word because it is both negative and positive to me. I am very vulnerable to some things because of my past.

Strength for me is generosity and the heart in the right place, to dare to be weak, and I told she more about me – but without embroidering this here.

I have to take a break.
Then I come to think about one during my studies.

I told her about this.

«So nice to be able to help,» I said.

After this conversation with the philosophical question, we have talked a lot together.

And me…I have thrown the «picture» of myself -in to the wall and it has broken into a thousand pieces.

Maybe, one day –  I «build» it togheter again.

A little flash of light on a gray everyday for a person I much care about, showing me every day what bravery is ❤

-Orkidedat

Me, a friend🦋

(English text after Norwegian text)

Me a friend, meg en venn, venner for livet, best friend friendship, beste venner Norwegians friends friends in Norway Norwegian blogger

Ikke snu ryggen til meg. Ikke vend det andre kinnet til.

Ikke prøv å vær sterk. Det er helt greit å være svak.

Jeg vet du har styrke. Jeg vet at du, uansett, klarer å ta grep.

Ikke såre de nærmeste.

Jeg kan ikke viske vekk din smerte. Jeg kan ikke gjøre jobben for deg.

Jeg kan sitte ved siden av deg og forstå. Jeg kan trøste om jeg bare får lov.

Du var alltid den som løftet meg opp i tunge tider. Du var alltid den som fikk smilet mitt frem gjennom mine tårer.

Hvorfor stenger du deg inne?

Hvorfor sier du at du savner meg?

Hvorfor forteller du meg hvor vondt du har det, og dine tårer tar ikke slutt?

Hvorfor sier du at jeg betyr så mye for deg?

Er det bare ord for deg uten mening lenger?

Jeg spør deg om jeg kan gjøre noe for deg? Og du svarer alltid at jeg aldri må slutte å være den jeg er.

Jeg gjør ikke det, men jeg skulle ønske du ikke bare sa det. Jeg skulle så inderlig håpe du kunne føle og se meg når jeg snakket til deg.

Jeg kan føle i min sjel at du ikke har det bra.

Jeg vil ikke trenge meg på, du skal få bestemme fart, tid og sted.

Du sier du vil mimre om gamle dager og bare være oss to.

Vi har skapt mange minner, der du alltid sa du var glad i meg, der du alltid lyttet med hjerte og lo og sa at «du skal ikke angre på noe som deg til å smile».

Du fortalte meg alltid at vi skulle si hverandre god natt, fordi livet er skjørt.

Jeg kan føle på at jeg vet ikke hvor mye jeg snart skal gi.

Jeg må videre med eller uten deg. Jeg vil gjerne du skal være en del av mitt liv.

Jeg vil så gjerne ha tro på det du sier er ekte, fordi jeg vet, fordi du og jeg har vært igjennom mye.

Jeg kan vente, vente på deg, fordi du betyr så utrolig mye for meg.

Jeg er din venn uansett hvor lang tid det tar.

Hver gang vi sier farvel, gjør det vondt, fordi jeg vet aldri om jeg hører eller ser deg igjen.

-Orkidedatter-

//

Me, a friend🦋

Don’t turn my back on me. Do not turn the other cheek.

Don’t try to be strong. It’s okay to be weak.

I know you have strength. I know you, anyway, manage to take hold.

Don’t hurt the closest.

I can’t wipe away your pain. I can’t do the job for you.

I can sit next to you and understand. I can comfort if I’m just allowed.

You were always the one who lifted me up in heavy times.

You were always the one who got my smile through my tears.

Why are you closing in?

Why do you say you miss me?

Why do you tell me how bad you are and your tears do not end?

Why do you say I mean so much to you? Is it just word for you without meaning anymore?

I ask you if I can do anything for you?And you always answer that I must never stop being who I am.

I don’t, but I wish you didn’t just say that.

I was so hopeful you could feel and see me when I spoke to you.

I can feel in my soul that you are not good. I do not want to puch you, you have to determine speed, time and place.

You say you will reminisce about the old days and just be the two of us.

We’ve created many memories, where you always said you loved me, where you always listened with and to your heart and laugh and said «you shouldn’t regret something that make you smile».

You always told me we should say good night, because life is fragile.

I can feel that I do not know how much I will give soon.

I have to go on with or without you.

I would like you to be part of my life.

I would like to have faith in what you say is real, because I know, because you and I have been through a lot.

I can wait, wait for you, because you mean so much to me.

I’m your friend no matter how long it takes.

Every time we say goodbye, it hurts, because I never know if I hear or see you again.

-Orkidedatter-

Trapped in the past…

(English text after Norwegian text)

Jeg lukker øynene og lar tonene fra musikken fylle tankene mine. Jeg blir henne lille jenta igjen. Jeg er en lettrørt person og tårene som triller nedover mine kinn har mye historie i seg.

Fanget i fortiden trapped in the past coping with life mental health Norway Norwegian blogger livsmestring

Jeg er så utrolig sliten. Jeg er så sliten av å ha en kropp som har stengt alt av følelser inni seg. I over mange mange år har jeg kjempet for å ikke falle fra hverandre, men endelig orket jeg ikke mer.

Jeg går en runde i huset mitt. Jeg hutrer av å se ut av vinduet. Der ute, der er det mange vonde minner. De kommer kasta på meg som steinras. Det er vondt.

Jeg kjenner hele kroppen gjør seg klar til kamp. Jeg kjenner hjerte mitt «fryser» og følelsene prøver å ikke «kjenne» på hvordan det var. Hjernen min søker etter positive minner for å kjempe tilbake. Kjempe tilbake det vonde og såre med kjærlighet og positive minner.

Jeg snur meg og ser innover i mitt eget hus. Det er fylt med gode minner, kjærlighet, latter, mye kos og hygge, omsorg og så mye lys og varme. Jeg vet ikke hva jeg skulle ha gjort uten min mann.

Jeg prøver å riste av meg gufsene fra fortiden. Jeg vil ikke kjenne på det lenger. Jeg vet jeg må for å få det enda bedre med meg selv. Å gå videre med livet, ikke bare for meg, men min familie også.

Jeg går med raske skritt over gulvet, bestemt. Tar med meg hundene og går ut. Ut på tunet der fortidens nifse «spøkelser» er. Det er ikke mange forandringene hjemme hos meg i mitt barndomshjem. Et nytt hus er bygd, men ellers alt som før.

Hjernen min skanner hver en krok og hvert et sted. Hvorhen jeg ser og snur meg, har jeg minner. Mange vonde minner…Jeg pusser støvet av noen, gjør de klarere for meg. Jeg står i «stormen» som raser inni meg. Går igjennom tanker og følelser som jeg kjenner så alt for godt igjen. Lille jenta som satt med bena oppunder seg, gråt og hikstet og til slutt ville ende sitt liv.

Selv om det er vinter og kjølig, orker ikke kroppen å holde meg oppe. Jeg faller sakte ned på bakken og gråter. Jeg gråter som jeg husker meg selv som lita jente. Jeg kan føle smerten. Jeg får de samme fysiske smertene og reaksjonene.

Jeg tar vekk håret fra ansikter mitt som er fult av tårer. Øynene er såre og jeg føler meg dårlig. Jeg kikker bort på skogen, et fluktsted som jeg var så glad i som lita jente.

Jeg er kald og jeg er våt. Sleper meg opp og inn. Kler av meg og fyrer opp i peisen. Jeg elsker å sitte foran peisen og se på flammene som sluker seg rundt veden i ulike farger.

Rød, gul, oransj, lilla, blå og hvit farge som varmer en utmattet og kald kropp. Jeg henter dyna og legger den godt inntil kroppen min. Det beste av alt, varmer mitt hjerte og sinn.

Snart ikke lenger «fanget i fortiden», men tilbake til her og nå, mitt liv, jeg skal lære meg å leve med arrene🦋

-orkidedatter-

//

Trapped in the past..

I close my eyes and let the tones from the music fill my mind. I’ll be her little girl again. I am a light-hearted person and the tears rolling down my cheeks have a lot of history in them.

I’m so incredibly tired. I am so tired of having a body that has closed all of the feelings inside it. For over many many years I have struggled not to fall apart, but at last I couldn’t do it anymore.

I go for a round in my house. I shudder to look out the window. Out there, there are many bad memories. They will throw at me like rocks. It hurts. I know the whole body is getting ready for battle.

I know my heart «freezes» and the feelings try not to «know» how it was. My brain is searching for positive memories to fight back. Fight back the evil and hurt with love and positive memories.

I turn around and look into my own house. It is filled with good memories, love, laughter, lots of fun and coziness, care and so much light and warmth. I don’t know what to do without my husband.

I try to shake off the vapors of the past. I don’t want to know it anymore. I know I have to get even better with myself. Going on with life, not just for me, but my family too. I walk with quick steps across the floor, determined. Take my dogs and go out.

Out in the yard where the old «ghosts» of the past are. There are not many changes at my home in my childhood home. A new house is built, but otherwise everything as before. My brain scans each hook and every place. Wherever I look and turn, I have memories. Many bad memories …

I brush some of the dust, make them clearer to me. I stand in the «storm» that rages inside me. Going through thoughts and feelings I know all too well again. Little girl who sat with her legs up and down, crying and hesitating and eventually ending her life.

Although it is winter and cool, the body cannot keep up. I slowly fall to the ground and cry. I cry as I remember myself as a little girl. I can feel the pain. I get the same physical pain and reactions.

I remove the hair from my faces full of tears. The eyes are sore and I feel bad. I look away at the forest, an escape place that I was so fond of as a little girl. I’m cold and I’m wet. Drag me up and in.

Smells of me and fires up in the fireplace. I love to sit in front of the fireplace and watch the flames swallowing around the wood in different colors.

Red, yellow, orange, purple, blue and white color that warms an exhausted and cold body. I get the pad and put it well to my body. Best of all, warm my heart and mind.

Soon no longer «trapped in the past» but back to here and now, my life, I’ll teach myself to live with the scars.

-Orkidedatter-