Le grand voyage

Tu sais que si la nuit t'appelle
C'est pour un voyage pleins de découvertes
Et de tempêtes.
Tu sais qu'il va faire froid
Mais t'y vas quand même
Sans tes mitaines.
Tu sais que cette petite flamme incertaine
Sera aussi un jour prochain source de chaleur
Et de tes valeurs.

Ils te disent que rien ne change jamais
Que tu ferais mieux de rester au chaud près du feu ;
Ils se disent qu'après tout t'es majeure et vaccinée
Et se remettent à discuter - de tout de rien - puis iront se coucher.

Toi tu sais qu't'es pas toute seule
Parce que le terre
Porte tes pas.
Toi tu sais qu't'as pas d'doutes
Parce que tu fais la route
Par coeur.
Toi tu sais qu't'as pas peur
Parce que t'es partie
En éclaireur.

Au matin yeux bouffis et gueules de bois douloureuses
Maquillages évaporés dans des rêves avortés ;
Dans la cheminée la grisaille froide d'une chaleur morte partie en fumée
Ils se disent qu'ils ont passé une excellente soirée.

Toi tu sais qu't'as pas l'choix
Parce que les autres suivront
En temps et en heure.

clairem --- 22 Dec 2006

Women (2) - Nascent trust

Women as guides
in new landscapes

Women as mentors
in new teachings

Women as friends
in new discoveries

Women as allies
in new wisdom

Women as accomplices
in new spirits

Women as mirors
in awakened powers

Women ... Here I come

clairem --- 19 Nov 2006
(La venus endormie - Paul Devaux)

Women (1) - Soft landings

They used to be frightening,
No...
Terrifying! And bottom-less
Black-holes! And devastating
Tornadoes! And devouring
Quicksands! And solitary
Drownings! And closing-in
Spiderwebs! And deafening
Water-falls!

Until a feminine hand pulled open
The parachute, slowing the descent...

Time to see the monsters
Not so monstrous,
The savage
Not so vicious,
The villain
Not so uncivilized,
The obscene
Not so shameful,







Time to trust that I also belong in safe landings.






Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli, c. 1485



clairem --- 21 Nov 2006

more soon...

I've had the most amazing weekend... mindblowing experiences... for which I haven't got words yet! I know they will come some day, jump out of my mind, scream in my ear, spread on the sheet and the screen, sparkle in the dark and pour out simply, when they're ripe... to tell the wonders of being a woman amongst women, the excitment of being supported and envied, the extraordinary feeling of being entirely in the here and now, of belonging and not longing...
more soon...

emotions…
for too long bottled up, killed and buried
in the name of Romance
today painfully vomited
warm blood running through my veins
I am alive again

clairem --- 10 Nov 2004

Shall I dance?

the pause button is stuck on the old hi-fi
sounds die away leaving my ears screaming
my mouth subdued and my hands crippled

time to replace the old system whatever the costs
beats have their own rules leaving my head screaming
my legs dancing and my heart liberated

clairem --- 10 Nov 2004

My sweet daughter

You can love my sweet daughter
Of course you can love
Do marry and have children
And be happy

But
Don’t look at men in the eyes
Don’t be too spontaneous
Don’t be too attractive or seductive
Don’t be too sensual or sexual
Don’t seek pleasure

You can love my sweet daughter
Of course you can love
Do be a wife and a mother

But
Don’t be a woman

clairem --- 1 Nov 2006

Let's meet downtown

She said, Let’s meet in dusty downtown
That’s where the fun is
Behind closed doors, hidden
She said, I can play the piano on your back
And the drum on your buttocks.
Strip naked and follow my instincts

She said, We’re going to the moon
And she took me underground
Trust me, I know the way”.

She said, Let my fingers be your eyes
So that you can watch in the most awesome darkness
The colourful rainbows of imagination
Your back arching and your hips raised
Your rounded belly full with desire
Your legs apart introducing your pink shiny Yoni

She said, Let my fingers be your hands
So that you can feel the most pleasurable places
The ladder of your curved spine
Your nipples sticking out hard on swollen islands of softness
Your belly shivering under the pressure of crazy caged butterflies
The dense maze of your thick pubic hair protecting your secret

She said, Let my fingers be your ears
So that you can listen to the most pounding sounds
The chanting rhythm of your heartbeat and crescendo desire of your breathing
The rustle of the crisp clean sheet as you rise on your feet and shoulders
The overflowing drip of the fountain hidden behind your labia
Your throat that lets out the most instinctual and natural scream

She said, Let my fingers be your nostrils
So that you can smell the most arousing smells
The sweet and sour sweat of your armpits
Your delicious and beloved intimate fertility
The fully grown feminine energy
Of your tenderly enchanted, and offered, Yoni

She said, Let my fingers be your mouth
So that you can taste the sweetest tastes of all
Your belly’s skin screaming, “I’m here!”
The full bodied tongue in your mouth
Your nipples’ desire to be devoured
The creamy cascade raining between your legs

She said, Let my fingers be your heart
So that you can feel alive

clairem --- 7 Nov 2006

Ma prison dorée

La cage de verre s’est soudain refermée sur son bourreau.
La terre a tremblé. Elle s’est arrêtée. Et sur les carreaux
Les années et les heures continuent à venir s’écraser
Comme un mystère – pour m’épargner ?
Tels les éclairs il ne reste aucune trace
Elles vont, elles viennent, elles passent
Prélude d’une atmosphère où la détresse s’entasse
A découvert, mais je ne veux pas voir et garde les yeux fermés.

Ma tour de verre est ma prison dorée
Ne tentez pas de m’y déranger
Ceux qui sont venus m’y chercher
S’y sont cassés le nez !

J’ai peur des courants d’eau, des courants d’air.
Je me suis calfeutrée et mise à hiberner. Je me terre
Les rivières de mes larmes ont séché
Juste à temps ! Je ne sais pas nager.
A toutes les portes j’ai mis des clés
Un tour, deux tours… ha ! Tout le monde est enfermé !
Maintenant que la mécanique est bien huilée
Il n’y a plus de hoquet, seulement une harmonie sucrée.

Ma tour de verre est ma prison dorée
Mais je ne cesse d’être dérangée
Quelques vagues de chaleur de passage
Je continue à me faire avoir par ces mirages !

Toutes les clés se mettent à saigner en même temps
Un tour, deux tours… Est-ce l’arrivée du printemps ?
Une monstresse d’une douloureuse beauté
Se force un passage parmi mes souvenirs enterrés
Et fait voler en éclat ma prison dorée.
Le temps m’a rattrapé et me force à regarder
En face une grande solitude longtemps accumulée
La déesse est en déshabillé et m’invite à l’aimer.

clairem --- 15 Oct 2006

Diving into the new game

Sadness
Fear
Grief
Laughter
And countless others
Keep playing seek and hide
Jump, push and disappear
Dance, swing
What a mess!
OUT – OUT - OUT

The body looses its balance.
I need a rest.
Gentle wind
Exploding volcano
Filled up puddle
My mind goes round and round and round
… I give up.

They’re careless though.
They’ve left clues.
Time to track them down.
Time to play detective.

Even if I don’t know the rules
Even if I don’t know the words
I hear some whispers.
Feel
Love
Patience
Receive
Let go
OK - OK – OK

My mind looses its balance.
I need a rest.
Judgmental policeman
Naive sleeping beauty
Cheating trickster
My body goes quiet, tired and numb
… I give up.

Time to rise up to the challenge
Mind versus Body
That’s the name of the game
And only two winners will do.

clairem --- 19 oct 2003

Inspiration

The cruel letter-box
Breeds only anguish from being vacant.
The malevolent telephone
Brings only grief from remaining silent.

Ink dried-up making my words still-born.
Connections gone loose between heart and hand.
Still I scribble on this page, saying nothing.
How disappointing!

Al, you promised…
Terry, you said …
Oliver, you offered…

I lose my footing in a swirling black hole.
Seconds, days and months go unfazed
I can’t swim and slowly drown…

clairem --- end of 1990

Dieu @ 16

A 16 ans, j’avais rencontré Dieu.
Pour ne retrouver qu’un homme à 32.
Quelle déception !

De trois ans mon aîné,
Il m’avait choisi
Pour l’accompagner.

J’ai adoré jouer à la déesse
Comme on joue à la poupée.
Mais dans une naïve erreur de jeunesse,
J’ai fini par m’y identifier.

Fatalement le jour est venu
Où ma plus belle robe a été volée.
Je me suis retrouvée abandonnée, toute nue
Et sans mémoire de qui j’étais.

A 16 ans, j’avais rencontré Dieu.
Pour ne retrouver qu’un homme à 32.
Quelle leçon !

clairem --- 2003/2006

Darkness Visible

As a child, I was terrified of climbing up to the second floor of my parents’ house to go to bed. Each approaching night brought me more vivid imaginary yet real visions that I was going to be devoured alive by sly crocodiles and alligators faking to be asleep and hiding under my bed. I knew they were only waiting for me. I would not turn the light on so as not to give myself away and would make a giant leap, crash on the bed and curl up under the blanket. Safe, at last!! During those same years with my siblings, we took in turn to buy fresh milk direct from the farm nearby. In the winter months, I can’t remember one time when my 10 minutes walk didn’t get filled with thieves running by and taking my money, scary men jumping out of the bushes in front of me or monsters cutting me into pieces… but those were nothing compared to my belief that weren’t I to come back home no one would have noticed before my body had gone cold. Twenty-odd years later, I can add that I would have rather died than acknowledge those fears…

So imagine the feeling of fear when I tasted salty waters running down my cheeks and I heard myself voice a prayer as I made the conscious choice to enter the world of Darkness, “Spirit of Darkness, please welcome me into your world. I’m making the leap into the unknown and I’m terrified of being lonely”. Ouchhhh… My initiation unveiled a privileged relationship with other body-parts as they became exposed, celebrated and stroked with immense gentleness… My head, the ruler of 30 years or so of my life. My throat, as I am finding my own voice. My belly, swollen container of the repressed, forgotten and unknown emotions. My belly-button, permanent reminder of the very first wound, the eternal scar of the very first separation and death from the sacred link to the mother. My hands, last body-parts linking the world of light with that of darkness as they cover my eyes of the thick blindfold, by then my only friend and enemy. My hands, last pieces of a whole allowing my experience to be shared for the outer world through the writing of my story, my truth seeping through the walls of my heart and branching out into words…

As my hands put in place the blindfold, my biggest fear turns very real and I begin to die.

I dive. Deep, deeper, and deeper and deeper still. I carry too heavy a weight belt. I have no desire to stabilise my descent or my depth. I am unwilling to reach buoyancy, as I watch up the coral-bushes shining dark above me against the sun and the strong light of the ocean surface grow further and further away. Shhhhh… I can hear something… A silent chant bypasses my ears and talks directly to my brain, “I know what’s best for you, keep yourself to yourself and I’ll look after you…” I am spellbound and accept this request blindly. Whether far away or close by the siren’s chant whispers how courageous I am, how much I am the centre of attention, the only place I owe to be. She is so proud of me… so proud in fact that surely my buddies and I are playing in a different league! Soon I find no reason to try to reach out to them. I am so much more advanced, I have already gone places! Quietly she makes me shut the door and turn the light off for good… I am in the world of darkness and blessed.

“But, hang on, who are you?” Another voice coming from nowhere and as if hiding from me tries to be welcoming my buddies, one after another, once they have been initiated into the world of darkness. What an annoyance! I push her aside and keep her quiet!! All the while the siren keeps chanting and she is utterly disinclined to accept anyone entering her new world: only heroes need apply! I am diving real deep and I just know that I am able to observe a world that surely is not accessible to any of them!! I accept her terms and conditions and have no other desire than to follow her into the always greater depth of her world, into her hidden castle.

As the visibility increases when alone and in silence curled up on my bed - my refuge - I slowly grow younger - and colder. Soon enough I seek warmth and curl up under the blanket, when… “what’s happening!?! Has someone changed the mix of air in my tanks?” The narcosis wanes off slowly and the headache begins to creep in under my scalp… I recognise the settings of the siren’s home, the dark corners, the empty rooms, the naked cement walls, the austere silence, the absent neighbours, the always raised draw-bridge… Physically and spiritually, I am dispirited because I have followed my siren’s friend into a world that I know all too well and that I don’t like. But I know there is no escape, as the feeling of security is overpowering. Physically and spiritually I am terrified because I don’t trust the very one person I thought I could rely on… She makes sure she keeps me on my toes and starts questioning the experience itself and criticising me, “what are you doing wrong that you can’t see in the darkness?”, “You’re not good enough”, “not focused enough”, “not ready for it”, “your intents aren’t clear enough to have good dreams”, “was it worth the price you paid?”, “you’re missing the point”…”surely the others are gaining much more from the experience than you do”… Without warning I had just fallen from the chosen one, the princess, the bride to the dump of the earth. The old days of dictatorship had returned because I had happily signed in at the bottom of the contract without reading it!! The most beautiful siren’s voice had turned to the sour and bitchy voice of the witch.

When the annoying voice from nowhere creeps in again I feel it is too late. She’s now dying for a hug but the siren calls loud and clear, “we’ve done well together in the past, we can do it together again, we don’t need anyone. If you stay with me I’ll take care of you so that no one hurts you”. I had my chance. I know I had my chance to welcome her in but I pushed her away. There is no one else than myself to blame. And so the voice from nowhere is kept outside the walled city, the armoured body, the mother’s womb, the parent’s house, Dahab… I try to fight my deep instinctual mistrust of the siren and to raise rational arguments to make her fall. I can only watch my brain firing blank and see myself lose battle after battle. The weak voice from nowhere craves from human contacts yet they’re experienced with disgust. Yet, just as she thinks she’s won the war and I give up the fight, a flash of light comes through my blindfold, soon followed by more of the same until I come to recognise that it is here to stay. A strong and white sunshine forces through my eyelids, too. There’s no more hiding anywhere. There’s no more safe refuge. The coat of fear is quickly sweetened by warmth and hope and compassion brought to a woman gone into despair.

The spellbinding chant turned judgement is suddenly taken over by a silent outburst leaving no possible confusion, “what if love was NOT about suffering?” “What if receiving love was NOT conditioned by sadness, illness or pain?” “What if accepting love was NOT about signing a contract to give it all back?” The voice coming from nowhere can now be located. No need for GPS or satellites, I feel it in my burning heart in my chest, pounding harder and faster and bringing in fresh air into my tanks. Soon her joy is palpable as I resurface and she engages in a new battle with the siren bringing in a new set of rules: love, softness, compassion, gentleness enter the scene. There’s no string attached and no payback time…

The untrustworthy human’s hand resting on my shoulder and deep voice whispering in my ear, “are you ok?”, “you’re doing well” suddenly becomes bliss - The jealousy of being one of many turns to the thankfulness of being one of many - I am unique and required in our circle – I reach out to my buddies and love them and I feel genuinely loved, too - The need to be seen as the chosen one vanishes as the voice of my heart speaks of love – My heart adds on the icing on the cake: she is a core of authentic, non judgmental and non-restricted love within that I couldn’t even imagine existed.

I have not seen beautifully enamelled cathedrals, creepy entrances to grottos nor heard wolves on the distant hill but my journey into the Spirit of Darkness has handed me the most valuable gift; at the very centre of a beautifully formed female body sits a heart very much alive, overflowing with love and growing.

As my hands take off the blindfold and the clothes, and splash cold water from the stream onto my warmed skin I begin to live.

clairem --- 19 Oct 2006

Rhythm is everything

hands
caressing the page
fingers
trembling with desire
they find their feet…
--------------------- an enormous boost
--------------------- after too long a wait
--------------------- a lay off injured

hands
smelling the ink
fingers
pouring out the words
they’re ready to go…
--------------------- a connection to the heart
--------------------- after too long a wait
--------------------- a major repair

hands
enjoying carelessness
fingers
laughing with life
they set the speed…
---------------------- a magical composition
---------------------- after too long a wait
---------------------- a death experience

hands are free
fingers grateful
they know.
Rhythm is everything.
---------------------- and today…
---------------------- the sportsman’s allowed back from a nasty injury
---------------------- the instrument’s allowed back to his loving musician
---------------------- the creativity’s allowed back to the humble artist


clairem --- 11 Oct 2006

End of lies

You've said lies before
You've hidden the truth
For my own good you said
Or else
To spare me
Now I'm asking you
And I want the truth
Of what exactly?

Don't, don't, don't lie to me
I can tell
Just the way you stand
It is so clear I wonder
Are you really trying to convince me?

Speak with your heart
Voice the neither good nor bad
Explain not your love
Let it overflow
Make it real
I need to be touched
If you feel like a fool
That's the only way to win me over

Don't, don't, don't lie to me
I can tell
Just the way you look
It is so clear I wonder
Are you really trying to convince me?

Bienvenue à la mort qui donne la vie

Ma mère est morte
Enfin, en quelque sorte
Dans mes yeux, aucune larme
Mais un assourdissant vacarme

Ma mère est morte
Je lui ai prêté main forte
A cause de son infirmité
Je ne pouvais m’échapper

Ma mère est morte
Un couteau dans l’aorte
Pour tuer sa religion
Et son manque d’émotions

Jouer la comédie, prétendre, se vendre… AU DIABLE !
Accepter la vie ou aller se pendre !
Jouer les martyrs, trahir, obéir, mentir… ASSEZ, ASSEZ !
Il est temps de se réjouir et de s’épanouir !

Les dés sont lancés
Ma mère est née
Ni juge, ni partie
Je me sens bien lotie

Les dés sont lancés
Ma mère est née
Renaissant de ses cendres
Avec un vrai cœur tendre

Les dés sont lancés
Ma mère est née
Elle est harmonie et paix
Elle reste à mon chevet

clairem --- 15 Jan 2006

Elasticity

Thanks and let go
I'll give you a hug and you can go
I was cristal glass
I'm now flexible.
Good night.

clairem --- 5 Mar 2006

Knock Knock Knock

Knock Knock Knock
Who’s that?
Life’s at the door, 8 o’clock
You woke me up
I shall come back.

Knock Knock Knock
Who’s that?
Life’s at the door, 9 o’clock
Too early, not ready
I shall come back.

Knock Knock Knock
Who’s that?
Life’s at the door, 10 o’clock
Sounds and smells tempting
I shall wait for you.

Knock Knock Knock
Who’s that?
Life’s at the door, 11 o’clock
Colours and trust sneak in
I shall stay put.

Knock Knock Knock
Who’s that?
Life’s at the door, 12 o’clock
Feet planted on the ground
You shall come with me

clairem --- 6 Apr 2006

Yes, No, Maybe ... not

Yes
I can.
But
I won't.
Too much pain.
"See? I do it alone
Will you love me now?"

No
I can't.
And
I won't.
Too much hurt.
"See? I'm strong
Will you love me now?"

Enough!
Enough!

I call
for help.
Love.
"See? I'm hurt
Will you hold me now?
Will you let me cry?"

clairem --- 9 Aug 2006

Shame

girl - - - get it off your chest

- - - - - - cry it

- - - - - - caugh it

- - - - - - shout it

- - - - - - and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - dance it

girl - - - let it undo its ties

- - - - - - weaken

- - - - - - crawl

- - - - - - beg

- - - - - - and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - expire - - - - - die

girl - - - feel it surface in the open

- - - - - - fear

- - - - - - anger

- - - - - - hope

- - - - - - and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - compassion

girl - - - explore the full nothingness

- - - - - - hard softness

- - - - - - bright darkness

- - - - - - yelling silence

- - - - - - and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - empty space

girl - - - celebrate the birth of new life

- - - - - - look its coming

- - - - - - hear its whispering

- - - - - - smell its wetness

- - - - - - taste its rawness

- - - - - - touch its nakedness

- - - - - - and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - own it - - - - - very simply

clairem --- 20 Sept 2006

Emotions, emotions, emotions, emotions, emotions...

We have the chance to experience emotions, lots of them, and yet what do we do with them? Is it true that as we grow up we quickly learn to express them in a way acceptable for the masses, that is, contained and restrained… at least for those numerous ones that hold a negative stigma?... Is it true that in so doing, we only keep them locked up and they become parts of us that we grow to love or hate?... Tonight, let me share a formidable discovery as I have uncovered not only their place of exile in my body but a way to retrieve them and set them free… that is, if I can unlock the doors and trust that my body is always right in movement.

Let me tell you my shock as I acknowledged, received, met and dialogued with the emotions in flowing; as I observed them arise and discovered their boundaries; let me tell you my confusion as I celebrated them and recognised them for what they are – alive, ever-changing and free… Let me portray my respect to them and to Mother Earth as I felt reunited to Her through them – or is it the other way around?
Imagine them as they expand, take their shapes and draw clear and defined lines in staccato, drive changes in my breathing and open my heart as they follow the beat - in/out… in/out… Watch their growing desire to be pushed out, to be given away to the world where they belong; hear them whisper, sing or shout in my ear, “Look at me, Hello, this is me, I exist, I am alive and I want to be free, you do not own me!”
Feel the heat as comes the time of chaos, when you’re left standing outside the eye of the storm; witness them powerlessly as they take control and their overwhelming spell explode into a volcanic eruption… Be patient and prepared for the follow-up…
Look out for those emotions that now run and live on air... and, welcome to lyrical where the newly shaped landscapes of emotions may seem desolated but hold a promise of new beginnings; where terrifying despair and grief of having lost part of oneself meets tremendous hope for better pastures; where warm tears meet genuine laughter;
Let me reveal my admiration as recognised my beautiful cells, organs and body in stillness, as I wished farewell to the emotions that didn’t serve me any longer; let me finish my tale as reconnect to mother Earth and celebrate with softness and gentleness new open spaces, far too long hidden behind locked shutters and doors.

I know I will encounter more of the same emotions over and over again … Let’s hope they will journey through my cells at a quicker pace and I will set them free over and over again; let’s hope I will not get a sense of attachment or property over them; let’s hope the prisons’ keys are lost forever.

Let’s hope I learn to transform the free and powerful energy they hold into a strong creative force.

Clairem ---- 11/09/2006

La vie et belle

Controversée, compliquée, ambiguë, fatiguée

Tricheuse, voleuse, amusante ou terrifiante

La vie est belle

Dévorante, repliée, anéantie, assouvie

Plaisante, reposante, ardente ou violente

La vie est belle

Souple, sucrée, violette, grise ou verte

Mouillée, énervée, coléreuse ou attentionnée

La vie est belle

Déballée, ensoleillée, irréfléchie ou renchérie

Grandie, vivante, émerveillée

La vie est belle

La vie a un prix

Tout est en balance

Et je n’avais pas compris

Elle te donne pas le choix

Sans connivence

C’est un pas de trois

clairem --- 3 Jan 2006

Dahab, my sacred womb

I love Mondays.

I love Mondays because I dance a wave or two that awake life within my body and my soul.

Tonight I danced with my heart wide open. I danced and offered loudly my deeper joys and sorrows and received other dancers’ laughters and fears. I danced a celebration of my past, present and future lives alike, surfing comfortably on the biggest wave ever! We all know though; it takes only a split second to be engulfed by the wave, violently thrown around and back and forth in the furious rolling waters. Tonight that split second came with the news headlines…

… The terrorist attacks in sunny and peaceful Dahab killed at least 22 people and injured scores…

My eyes bleed and my lungs gasp for air. The desolation of the Sinai desert penetrates my every pore and its vast quietness assaults and invades my mind. There is no possible escape. My world, most often neat and controlled, collapses the exact same way it did on that deadly morning of 7^th July. My heart ripped apart pukes thick bloody burps that press and push on its walls already thinned by 30-odd years of guilt. Not too surprisingly, they quickly give in under this powerful and excruciating attack, allowing tearful grief and peaceful quietness to meet. The result brings in more guilt for a startling cheerfulness creeps in, that surely, should be vetoed. But I’m relieved all the same to feel a growing sense of compassion for those people who have had the “chance” to only be witnesses of the carnage.

Compassion for this man working at the Al Capone restaurant who I had already met two years earlier. At the time he worked for the restaurant Friends further away on the beach front. We shook hands and exchanged jokes and smiles. Is he still alive? Compassion for a guy engaging conversation while I sit, on a windless evening, on the wall opposite the post office facing the lighthouse peninsula and rejoice the lights reflecting on the still, dark waters. It has the same calming effect than watching flames in a fireplace. I do nothing and only sit there watching the colourful light reflections on the surface of the sea. He says he’s a Christian and has been in Dahab for a few years. He works as a travel agent, offering camel safaris, dive packages, trips to the St Catherine’s Monastery and much more. Of course he hands his leaflet to me! His “office hours” aren’t up yet although it is nearly 10pm. His office is just across the wooden bridge, opposite Al Capone restaurant. Was he working tonight? Has he been lucky? Compassion for still another man who chatted me up, originally from Alexandria. He says he’s of a Muslim family and has lived and worked in Dahab for the past 12 years without them knowing. He explains that he loves it here but would not be allowed to work in what they call a “degenerate” place where alcohol flows and women show themselves next to naked. Will he still have the chance to say the truth? Last but not least, compassion for the few groups of two to three girls aged 8 to 14 walking the beach or the restaurants to sell their handmade jewellery to tourists, females and males alike. They stop by, sit on your towel and speak your language. At least bits and pieces of it. They can be nice or harassing and irritating but always very clever girls who mostly get what they want. At least you win peace and breathing space… Are they still walking from dawn to dusk?

I was in Dahab two years ago for the first time. I was back in Dahab last month. Tonight people have said to me, “you must feel relieved and lucky!” But I don’t. I feel hurt and let down, bruised, saddened and guilty to be safe and so far away. I had not seen how much Dahab meant to me… until tonight. A unique heartbeat set on a smooth and tranquil pacemaker not compatible with most battery brands. Friendliness, peace, noise of rumbling air compressors and banging diving tanks was all that mattered. Dahab was unconscious, unconcerned and unaffected by the world races for fame, money, power or religion. Tonight another reality of hatred and sorrow has come uninvited and blown apart the open doors three times in quick succession. Dahab can only lick its wounds but the scars will remain.

Dahab has opened my eyes on the biggest lie of the past 30 years: I am a fake. What was supposed to be a romantic holiday ended up with the discovery of a deeply painful, long standing wound that kick-started a traumatic and tremendous journey. It is in Egypt, cradle of civilisation, that I could crawl back to ancient times and recover the wounded child. Dahab is the symbol of my sacred womb where the child was kept protected and safe from the struggle and pain of real life. Dahab is my fairy tale world where I handed over my responsibilities. No wonder tonight’s attacks hurt the very core of me!! My safe and trustworthy home has been torn into pieces in the most atrocious manner. We all know though; the count-down of the secure and confined mother’s womb environment is up at nine months. Each one of us has to go through the most terrorising event of all - birth - that we often take for granted. How on earth can we genuinely believe it is only a formality to come through the narrowest of canal into the most inhospitable world? The new born child faces the greatest decision in choosing to live in this hostile world and knows that the most agonising pain of breathing is the price to pay.

Tonight the secure haven is no more and there is no possible return! Blood has been spilled all over the pages of my favourite fairy tale book. I feel powerless and vulnerable yet confident, devastated and betrayed and utterly isolated in this western world more concerned by petrol prices than lost human lives. I’m surprised, though, that no anger flows in my veins. To tell the truth, I am actually thankful I could wish farewell in my own terms. Last month when the thought of becoming dive master and stay in Dahab crossed my mind it was violently opposed by an urge to run away from it. I symbolically went through the birth canal again. The parting celebration was painful as I left the Fake behind and welcomed the new born child into her new world. Mourning of so close a friend and overcoming the guilt of letting her go will take time but I am at peace.

Some people lose their heart in a place around the world. I have found mine in Dahab and if I forget it during the week, it takes centre stage again while I dance on Mondays.

clairem --- 24 Apr 2006

Tearing the cloak apart

Yellow the round-ish disk in a dark, spotted sky
Glittered, the cheeks devastated by liters of tears
Wet, rude, agressive, opened the ancient parchment
White, shiny the cloak of the forgotten girl

Shock
Anxiety
Fear
Terror
Anger
Unrest
Shame
Disgust
Resentment
Sadness
Guilt
Shame
Repulsion
Truth
Growing-up
Lesson
Responsibility
Forgiveness
Integration
Hapiness
Harmony
Compassion
Not enough words for an undescribable chaos
Not enough courage for an unacceptable ugliness

Unearthed the long forgotten secret
Written down all the rejected dates and times
Spoken out the well hidden encounter
Awaken at last the long anaesthetised heart.

clairem --- 1 nov 2004

The prodigal artist

Allowed the feelings, expressed the emotions -
Creativity flourishing from compassion.

Within new and wider bounderies of safety,
the artist has recovered a sense of identity.

She's now back home, welcome
and very, very much able.

The artist is talented
but most importantly, trusted.

clairem --- 2 jan 2005

Bonne année

Malgré le manque d'assurance et un gros trac
que tu ne juges mes rimes hésitantes,
je jette pour toi ces quelques mots en vrac
et espère ton opinion bienveillante.

Il s'agit juste de te faire un petit coucou
et de te souhaiter une heureuse nouvelle année :
que tu t'attardes sur tes rêves, même les plus fous,
et que les plus beaux deviennent réalité.

Que 2005 te donne le courage
d'affronter les épreuves comme un conquistador,
de regarder en face les plus proches mirages,
parce qu'on y trouve souvent les plus beaux tésors.

clairem --- 5 jan 2005

Love me

Just sit here
Love me.

Look and
close your eyes.
What do you see?

Sit still,
don't go away!
Turn around.

Hug me
without a touch.
Kiss me
without your lips.
See me
without your eyes.

Open your heart.
If you can't feel it
who are you?

clairem --- 12 fev 2006

Danse, danse, danse...

Un accueil dépassant toute espérance,
quelques verres qui chauffent la piste de danse,
des mots échangés dans le creux de l'oreille
sous le reagrd d'une amie qui veille.

Le rythme peu à peu s'accélère,
la retenue s'en va ventre à terre.
Les joues s'enflamment au cours de la parade,
deux corps se frôlent et les coeurs battent la chamade.

Au contact les sueurs se sont mêlées
abandonnant cette saveur salée acidulée.
Le rock est toujours endiablé
mais les corps se sont figés.

Les lèvres collées, les langues enlacées,
les mains courant sur un dos mouillé,
les seins durcis par ce désir soudain.
L'électrochoc lui fait coller son corps au sien,

pour être aussitôt projeté au loin
d'un mouvement brusque, assassin,
la tête basse et le dos courbé
sur sa cuisse gauche agenouillée.

Le silence se fait. Puis la foule se soulève!
Les acteurs se prennent à croire à leurs propres rêves,
pour se réveiller côte à côte , surpris et embarassés
une fois la nuit terminée.

clairem --- 3 jan 2006

Chère Méditerrannée

L'eau n'est pas propre.
"Excusez-moi, Monsieur, ce parasol n'est pas le vôtre"!
La plage est remplie de mégôts.
"Pourriez-vous baisser votre musique?"

Mais on peut faire de beaux châteaux!

clairem --- 29 août 2005

Peur

Un coup oui,
Un coup non.
Peur
de toi
et de moi,
sourtout de moi.
D'avoir mal,
de sortir
d'un chagrin
confortable.

clairem ---- 17 nov 1993

Nous deux

Ce sont tes yeux qui m'attrirent
dans ta bouche que je me noie
sur ton corps que je souhaite mourir
ton sourire qui me donne soif de toi.

C'est ton humour
parfois bien lourd
mais surtout tes yeux
et leurs regards froids mais si bleus.

Et moi, je suis égoïste
je souhaite pouvoir dire nous deux
et si peu réaliste
que je pense souvent pour deux.

Je te soutiendrai dans les vents de panique
je t'épaulerai dans les moments critiques
je pleurerai dans tes moments tristes
et me réjouirai de tes réussites.


clairem --- 15 avr 1993

Mon soleil

L'amour est comme la mer
il s'abreuve de rivières
rouges ou blanches
quelle importance?

Soudainement révélées
un jour d'été
sous un magnifique soleil
d'une luminosité sans pareil!

Puis l'eau a coulé sous les ponts
et le soleil s'est caché sans raison
j'ai cru qu'il brillait juste pour moi
mais ses rayons sont plutôt froids.

Je veux mon soleil à moi
mais il s'éloigne a grands pas
je n'ai que quelques heures chaque semaine
pour croire espérér qu'il revienne.

clairem --- 30 mar 1993

Absence

Le souvenir
d'un regard
d'un sourire
Tout est bon
pour me donner
le cafard

Un rêve
Une nuit
Seule
Tout est bon
pour t'espérer
à mes côtés

Une feuille
un crayon
une idée
Tout est bon
pour t'imaginer
juste là

Une image
un film
une parole
Tout est bon
pour me rappeler
que tu n'es pas là


clairem --- 08 avr 1991

Vie!

Avance ne te retourne pas
Regarde devant toi
Raccroche-toi à la rive
Méfie-toi des courants qui dérivent
Cours s'il le faut
Garde la tête au-dessus des eaux
Mais ne t'essoufle pas
Car la vie te cherche
Car la vie t'attend
Et à chaque tournant
C'est un jeu de l'oie

clairem --- 06 jan 1990