Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing

​Pacing Myself

Let me be.


Just let me retreat.

I am not gone,

not leaving, not conquered.

I am retreating

into the shade of darkness tonight,

I have nothing

to offer or share.


My shell is emptied and fragile and cracked,

But it’s not broken, shattered or lost.

I need to recover, refuel, recharge,

And I can’t do that,

Not in light,

Not in sight.

I am tired off pain,

I am tired off weakness,

And my breathing is slow,

My heartbeats so hushed.

But I am still here,

Observing from my haven,

Keeping a watchful eye.


So let me be, please.

Just let me lay low,

Let me breathe in this silence

And the cool air of night.

Time will help,

Time will heal,

And all love will prevail.

I’m just tired,

Not beaten,

Still here.

This is a poem from my first poetry collection Versus Verses – Feel.  Written so long ago, every once in a while it becomes so true for me. Like right now. 

Recharge, refuel, rekindle, revive…

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Mrs Jackson

“She passed by her two younger sons on the porch. They were already getting an ear-bashing and pulling from their grandpa warden, their heads bent low, swallowing their snivel. No ‘save-us’ was directed at their mum, and no protective instinct worked within her any more. She hid in the garden, not sure if she wanted to survive another day.”


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Just submitted a wonderful children’s story for an anthology, but this one was not written by me. What makes me so proud is that the author is a young lady I am proud to call my goddaughter. There is nothing so fulfilling as knowing that, in the generation which is to follow, there are still artists, builders, creative young people who will continue to tip the scales on the side of positivity, creativity and soul. 

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In this hectic world, where evil seems easier and kindness is considered a waste of time, I admire people who make the best of their daily lives, cherishing their time together and seeing natural phenomena in the little things, such as a simple, loving smile.


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Her story told

“She remained standing on the school doormat and said something to the lorry driver. His shoulders tightened, his back arched even more, and his right index finger motioned for her to come to the road in front of him, like beckoning a dog. The porcelain figure in lacquered shoes walked towards him in small steps, like a Japanese geisha tapping on her tiny feet, but there was no grace or charm to this walk, only fear and submission.”

This was one of the more difficult scenes to write. Hated writing it. But she wanted her story told. 

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“He stopped in the middle of The Forest. He took a deep breath, inhaling the energy of the nature. Feeling as if he could explode, he shouted with all his might, a gigantic yawp…”


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Learn to love your spikes

Everyone always talks about the magic that happens when a child reads a book or hears the story. I love it, too.

But you want to know what my favourite moment is?

When they finish the story and step out of it, bringing the magic with them into the real world. When they finish Alice in Wonderland and realize there is always more than one way of looking at the world. When they read The Little Prince and know the box can contain anything you wish – it is all up to us.

There are so many stories which can empower us all to be better and stronger versions of ourselves. May we all find them and spread that magic to the world.

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When life tricks you into falsehood…

Change is never easy.

#newnovel #family #drama #fantasy #sismif

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From The Forest of Trees – Foreword

Our lives always consist of beauty and ugliness, and if we are lucky, we get to keep the balance of the two. The good From the foand the bad start from within us, and spread all around us. It is what weaves this world, and, I believe, all worlds everywhere and everywhen.

#newnovel #lifealteringdecisions #choices #changes #confidence #goodvs.evil

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Well yeah…

Still so much to do… such a great feeling!

#amreading #amwriting #amteaching #KindnessMatters #Thankyou

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