'The Boy with the Topknot' is still, by far and away, one of the best depictions of a modern British Asian experience that I've seen. I watch it quite often- still blows me away, and I find great comfort and calm in it. Love Sathnam Sanghera, and so inspired by all who worked on the… Continue reading Programme Focus: ‘The Boy with the Topknot’ (1/2)
Today, I am trying my best to have a duvet day. I emphasise "trying", as I can't adequately say how hard I find it to relax. Even if I seem calm, it's rare that I feel I truly am: there are always varying degrees of disquiet simmering beneath the skin, I so often feel that… Continue reading Friday 25th Sept ’20- Diary.
Saturday, the 5th of March, 2001. An eleven-year-old girl is staying at her mom's- well, her grandparents' (mother's parents)- house, where they have lived for a number of years since her parents split up, and later, divorced. I think it was four years in total- mom moved into her house, if I recall correctly, in… Continue reading Inaugural Flow: The Story Of My First Period
Prayer does nothing other than make you feel like you've done something. It is nothing but a sanctuary for the passive: those who choose to stagnate in perpetual hope, rather than take hold of the tangible courage in acting to affect change. Any action, however small, is valuable. In situations where you truly cannot do… Continue reading Thoughts On The Passive Institution Of Prayer- Wednesday, the 17th of October, 2018: 13:01.
"Hello, my name is Ciona and I am a writer", I say in the manner of a support group introduction. It has been a while since I have posted anything on here that isn't poetry: there are a number of pieces I want to write and share, but I am taking my time with putting… Continue reading A Creator’s Conundrum- ‘Previously Unpublished’.
(Rinse) Selfless, gracious living organ My skin That I have scoured, rinsed and dried to within an inch of its life. This is not only a past reminiscence But a present admission, A recitation of mental condition. The skin I wear Demonstrative of turmoil I bear My injurious emotions scraped in like cavern carvings. Shards… Continue reading Skin Thing.
When I cast my gaze down towards the growth marks on my legs, pearlescent cracks in my dust-rose-toned skin, I see satellite images of landscapes shaped by vast waterways, ambling on the tops of my thighs. Pictures of parched and contoured earth sculpted by rivers, skeletal carvings of tributaries Are reflected in my body, the… Continue reading : I Am Water
Outside the air smells alive, new greens and growths coming into being. The Springtime breeze swirls warm after midnight, whispering as it mingles and hushes through leaves. You can hear the great rush advancing, whipping up the night air. You stand in the doorway with palms facing out towards the darkness and allow the current… Continue reading Midnight Meditation