
Traumatic experiences occur in our lives outside of our control. We don't disappear because of them; somehow, we manage to withstand and continue. Yet, these experiences disrupt the flow of time, expanding and distorting our perception of reality. Stillness and acceleration coexist, causing brutal changes - a strange parallel of shame and resilience.
Manou Fines' English poetry collection "2 x SH - Shame & Shine. Poems for Times of Transition" wants to reassure the wounded heart that resilience is part of human nature, that our soul is infinitely vast and deep and contains the source of individual healing.
NYE (2021)
To our dinner for one
2021 came undone.
Picked some flowers
on the way,
gave little baby
a world to stay.
All seasons
were just fine,
still surfing on
that golden line.
Furry leaves again bless
their old tree
and his party dress
is made with glee.
Dark trunk says
in 2022
there will be
two ways
to get through:
love’s abundance
amplified
&
shadow’s catharsis
rectified.
On this truly
hilarious ride,
we might
learn how
to say
family right
(and hold our
night light tight).
On NYE
time runs fast,
yet never moves by,
let’s loosen the art,
wanna do that cry;
throw some sequins
in our face
when we dance to
a dim hue with grace.
Straightened bow tie,
curled up hair:
hi and bye to dada year!
Refugee's Blues (2017)
My children are dead.
My sky turned purple red.
Where is my fire-gun?
I am searching
for my son.
I survived hell,
got tortured in my cell.
My rights ran away,
but forced me to stay.
I came back home with
a curled up tongue.
My wife said time had changed
since we were young.
I am crying with
a pierced heart,
my son kidnapped from
our backyard.
My pretty daughter,
one day, she was late,
told me frozen
that she had been raped.
And my son is lost!
How much does a life cost
to this state of murderers
who wants to get
rid of us?
My girl said when
I disappeared,
it was the police
who she most feared.
In her belly she wears the sin,
like insidious scars on her skin.
So are we running away,
still is it love guiding our
long, long way.
But where we arrive
they are fed
up with us.
Cranky people, get over
your loss!
Sad and numb is our
ambition
for a little bit of
recognition
of what we
went through,
of what we
mourn.
The only hope
is the new-born
in this foreign land
and of a criminal father.
Its destiny lies in
all our hands.
So we ignore the
nasty comments
and the negative vibe
because one day
we will rebuild our tribe.
In memory of my son and
the innocence of my daughter
are we cleaning the ground
with fresh water,
are we forgiving ourselves
that we could not protect.
We keep our secret
that we knew how to enact.
Universe in everyday life (2012)
How many times have you met someone
who tells you something about the life of
another friend you don‘t know?
How often didn‘t you listen to yourself?
Do you hear the universe
speaking to you?
One heart, two souls, three lives.
A dozen family members.
Thousands of friends.
Nine soulmates.
Seven enemies.
One heart, two souls, three lives.
Who can be satisfied in this world
of in-satisfaction?
Who can love without knowing
what love is?
Do you hear the universe
speaking to you?
One love, two cries, three children.
A smile full of consciousness.
A hundred different point of views.
No empty thought.
One love, two cries, three children.
When do we take the train?
At what time do you have to work?
Can you help her with her shoes?
Why didn‘t he clean up?
Too many questions
and no answer.
Do you hear the universe
speaking to you?
Listen to the sound (2014)
Listen to the sound of life
as I keep you in my heart.
May your footsteps
never go astray
again.
May your hands
never touch the ground.
Listen to the sound.
Dancing for wishes ring
circles round
your shoulders‘ length.
Be the strength
you want your dreams to be.​
Set your wildness free
in your footsteps‘ melody.
Dance eternally
to the beat of your soul.
​
Listen to the sound.
I hear these voices‘ underground.
Setting stones on a drunken fire,
creating an effervescent desire
to understand and break
these worlds apart.
Don‘t be their playing card.
Wash the strings you found
and listen to the sound.
What love to life does
...coming soon...
Blue
Blue is the ocean,
blue is my heart
because
waves are licking at
longing for art.
For I am
underwater,
they can’t hear
my song.
They’re building
dykes as
I don’t belong.
Blue is the ocean’s
wondrous cry
as the wind
is teasing
“Why are you shy?“
Glittering grandness
is not perceivable
in the storm’s eye.
So don’t belittle the moon
when they ask why
you love his gloom.
Under boreal lights
you seem so
frightened
and paralysed.
Hasn’t the water
taught you
how to change shape
and helped you
realise
the art so blue,
the art so clear?
Where there is no
ground is water here.
​
Blue is your heart
if you don’t devote,
if you never sing
your personal note.
Blue are your thoughts,
blue are your ghosts,
release them and go!
Go, wander, dive
to the beach,
into the sand!
Honour the large,
wild Wadden Sea.
It is your life, poet,
in which you stand!
Follow the Northern star
and accept your fate.
Artists are never alike
and always change shape.
Blue are the children
you put out to drown.
You let them starve,
all these years they
died on their own.
Now live with their ghosts,
get crazy and confused
or channel their cries
and put them to use.
Artist, I urge you
to be who you are!
You are a widow,
a master and that beggar
you disregard from afar.
You are the one
who judges you.
Always on the run
from being new.
​
Remember, remember
and honour the time.
Don’t be the fool,
young and seduced.
You are a mother now:
truly introduced.
Waves are growing,
waves will leave.
Our shadow is expressed
or our lifelong thief.
And my very own children,
they are not mine
because water is vital
and the wind is benign.
Admire the ocean in
your wise heart.
You are not alone,
never too old,
sometimes it is mild
or seasons are cold,
but ever blue
is the ocean,
blue is your heart.
Waves are licking at
longing for art.