inspiration – Author Elena Carter

Wouldn’t it be nice

If people remembered that kindness matters. If they had an ability to swap places with others and feel what they feel. That would be a game changer, wouldn’t it?

If people remembered that it’s not about the money. That the times when people proudly packed all their possessions to accompany them into their graves are long gone. None of it will matter when you take your last breath.

If people remembered life isn’t a power struggle. You’re not here to prove anything to anyone, to impress, to compete, to win. Each and every one of us is on their own journey. Live and let live.

If people realized we’re all different, and it’s not just okay, it’s actually amazing. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. That’s the beauty of humanity. We’re all made of the same energy, regardless of what we look like on the outside.

If people remembered that tomorrow’s never promised. And that you don’t get a refund for today if it wasn’t to your liking. There’s no pause button. There’s no rewind option.

If people remembered that love isn’t something you get — it’s something you give, first of all. Love attracts love. If there’s no love inside you, it won’t magically appear on the outside. And it starts with loving yourself.

If people remembered that words have power. Words can heal and they can kill. And once the damage has been done, it can’t be easily erased. Words matter and should be used with wisdom and caution.

If people noticed the little things. If they opened their hearts to the beauty hidden in the fleeting moments, and focused on that instead of all the worries, grievances, and disappointments.

If people learned to listen. Really listen. With empathy and compassion and understanding. Instead of judging or waiting for the best moment to interrupt and jump in with their own opinion.

If people learned responsibility. If they remembered their words and actions always have consequences. And it’s usually better to prevent than to fix.

If people remembered that life is short and that while we’re all on our own journeys, we still happen to be on this planet together at the same time, so should we really make coexisting that hard? No one really benefits from that, at the end of the day. And if they think they do, they’re just really lost and confused, poor souls.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

The Girl Who Was Afraid

the little girl was afraid

of darkness

of ghosts

of death

of space

she grew and she learned

learned to read

learned to dream

learned to be afraid of judgement and betrayal

afraid of being second best

she wanted to grow things

trees and flowers and long hair

she wanted to grow wings

it only worked in dreams

she grew and she learned

learned to rely on herself

learned not to trust

to not turn her back

to not show her tears

she wanted to create

to write words that would stick

in hearts and minds

but by that time she was fluent in being afraid

of not being good enough

she learned to take care of herself and others

mostly others

they always came first

there was always someone to save

she kept dreaming

but she stopped flying in her dreams

she grew and she learned

that things are not what they seem

and people aren’t either

every lesson brought a new scar

the fears changed

transformed

evolved

she learned to be afraid of wasting time

time was never enough

just like her

she grew and she learned

to be afraid of never actually growing

of being stuck like a moth in amber

while life passes by laughing at her

the girl had her own kids now

so she learned to be oh so afraid

for them

every

single

day

but she also finally learned to say no

at least sometimes

courage felt intoxicating

bubbling in her veins

almost

giving

her

wings

again

she never liked what she saw in the mirror

but every day she learned

to keep that eye contact

a bit longer

until one day

she didn’t turn away

she looked at the reflection

and said

now I need to learn

how to stop being afraid

Confessions of a Wall Clock

They stare at me as if it’s my fault time is too slow.

They glare at me as if it’s my fault time is too fast.

I’m always the one to be blamed, although nothing depends on me.

I’m merely ticking. Reflecting the inevitable reality.

After having served this family for decades, I don’t know how long I have until I end up in the garbage.

Because sadly, they look at me less and less these days.

They used me to teach the little ones how to tell the time. They tried, then gave up. Kids have phones anyway.

Twice a year they move my hands, reminding me what a nuisance I am, for all my modern counterparts can do it on their own.

Sometimes, the batteries die. So I just watch in silence and feel utterly useless. I lose track of time myself, what a nightmare.

Eventually, they replace the batteries. Although it’s usually accompanied by “why do we need this thing anyway?”

I think my era is fading into oblivion.

Nothing surprising here.

For even though time is the only reason for my existence, one thing I know for sure:

Time is ruthless.

Small Big Talk

Let’s talk about the weather

Let’s talk about the smell of coffee teasing your nostrils in the morning

Or the first sun rays sneaking through the curtains to tickle your eyelashes

Let’s talk about goosebumps after listening to your favorite song

every

single

time

Or that book that kept you up all night and you wish you could forget it all so you could read it again

Let’s talk about the sun diving into the sea in the evening and holding its breath for the whole night

And the birds singing in the branches

Celebrating each day

Reminding us all how precious life is

If only we knew their language

Let’s talk about how a cat’s purr

Works better than medicine

And a dog’s wagging tail is a declaration of loyalty

About how your kid’s little hand feels in yours

And their laughter is better than any music ever written

Let’s not talk about the news

Please, leave the politics aside

Let’s not discuss the ever-growing prices and the broken education system

The feeling of impending doom is contagious

Let’s talk about life

Talk about love

A small big talk

To suture our wounded hearts

A Little Bit Better

Maybe I’ll buy myself a pair of yellow boots and a purple hat

Carry a bouquet of daffodils everywhere I go

Smile at strangers and wave at their dogs

Talk to stray cats, sparrows, and trees

Maybe I’ll wear long black dresses and carry a small notebook

Writing a poem on each bench I find

Then ripping out the ink-covered pages and hiding them in rose bushes

Or leaving it for the wind to decide who needs to read those words

Maybe I’ll put on jeans and a hoodie

Wear hiking boots and stock my backpack

Lose my phone and head into the wilderness

To listen to silence

To hide and escape

To find myself

Or maybe I’ll buy boxes of chocolates and dozens of roses

Get a pair of pink sunglasses

And go out on a rainy day

Treating strangers to a flower, a sweet, and a smile

Or maybe I’ll do none of that

I’ll write a silly poem instead

Imagining how I could make this world a little bit better

Kinder

Brighter

At least for a day

Reflections: Coming Soon

If anyone told me a year or two ago that I would be publishing a poetry collection, I’d find it hard to believe.

Since I started writing four years ago, I’ve always had several works in progress. I was working on my fantasy trilogy, writing short stories in between novels (for different anthologies and for my own short story collection), and even started learning screenwriting.

I think the first poem came out of nowhere when I was feeling overwhelmed with my teenage son going away for a month and a half. Writing my feelings down was sort of therapeutic. Back then, I just left those words in a note on my phone, not knowing that it was the moment a new door opened for me. Or, rather, for my words—in poetry form.

I often say that poems pretty much write themselves, and it’s true. They either come or they don’t. I never sit there thinking, “I should write a poem. What will it be about?” No, the words just appear in my head and insist on being written down.

As more and more poems poured out, I started putting them all together into a collection (as well as sharing them on social media and here on my blog).

They’re all different. Some short, some long. Some dark and raw, others uplifting and inspirational.

One thing they all have in common is that they come from the depths of my soul. From looking inward and trying to understand myself and this world.

That’s why I decided to call this book Reflections.

I’m beyond anxious to share this collection with the world, to be honest. I have never considered myself a poet. All the words — as imperfect as they may be — are genuine and heartfelt. And it’s a scary thing, serving your heart on a plate for everyone’s judgement.

But I dare hope that apart from judgement my words will find a different kind of connection with the reader. One where they make you feel something. Where they inspire you to look inside, and ask questions, and seek answers. Where they inspire reflections of your own.

Below is the back cover blurb for Reflections. It releases on November 30, 2024, and is currently available for preorder on Amazon.

If you decide to give my little book a chance, thank you from the bottom of my heart and I truly hope you enjoy it.

Who do you see when you look in the mirror?

A friend? An enemy? A stranger?

Have you ever truly stopped to look into those eyes—not a rushed glance, but a long, deep, searching gaze? They say eyes are the windows to the soul. What do you see in yours? Light or darkness? Hope or despair? Pain, anger, joy, or love?

Perhaps it’s a little of everything. Inside each of us is a vast, unexplored universe—a fascinating, complex world that often feels too scary to confront. But if you find the courage to dive in, to truly look inside, you might discover something you’ve been searching for all along, perhaps without even realizing it.

You might discover yourself.

Reflections is a poetry collection that invites you on a journey of self-discovery, encouraging you to look inward with open eyes. Through raw, honest verse, this book will be your companion as you explore the depths of your soul and meet the person waiting to be found.

What a Funny Time

I’m watching my little son as he sleeps. Marveling at this miracle we’ve created. Trying to wrap my head around how perfect he is. And how this perfect human being came from inside me.

It’s such a strange season of my life. My youngest turns 5 next month. And no matter how cliche it sounds, these years just flew by in the blink of an eye. They really did. There was a lot that happened in these five years, of course. There was a whole pandemic that turned the world upside down. There was a start of my writing career that turned my life upside down. There were struggles, adventures, learning curves, moments of joy. Tears and laughter, hellos and goodbyes. Everything you could imagine. And yet, I look at this little angel (aren’t they all angels when they sleep?) and wonder—when did this happen?

I’m about to book a one-way flight to another country for my eldest son. He’s 18. He’s got a life of his own and rarely finds time for me. And he’s getting ready to embark on a journey of a lifetime, going abroad to study.

For a year, to start with.

Although he’s planning to stay longer. Okay, in fact, he’s not planning to return.

Which is a good thing, of course. We can never truly go back, we can only move forward. Besides, every journey, every smallest trip we take always cause irrevocable change inside us. You just can’t come back as the same person.

I know it. And I love it.

When it comes to my journeys.

But as I plan for my young adult’s departure, I realize that those eighteen years also flashed by. My little baby is not a baby anymore. And I have no idea how it happened.

Years.

Decades.

I’ve been building my life.

And a life for my kids.

Rebuilding it.

Sometimes from scratch.

Making decisions.

Going places.

Changing directions.

Countries, cities, homes, identities.

Am I even me anymore?

Who was me, anyway, and does it even matter, if I’m not her?

Who am I now, and who will I be next year?

I’m just someone who finds herself in a funny time.

Turned 45.

Published my 4th book.

Got my 1st tattoo.

Celebrated my mom’s 80th birthday.

Choosing a cake for my son’s 5th birthday.

Hoping my other son can come home for his Christmas break to celebrate his 19th.

Numbers.

They don’t define anything, yet they carry so much weight. We always rely on numbers, don’t we? They scare us but also ground us at the same time. As if they’re something we can desperately hold onto in this whirlwind of a life.

Except we can’t. Because numbers tend to change. They never stay the same. Because this is how time works.

Funny, crazy, weird time.

Good deeds, cherry tomatoes, and the power of perspective

An old lady in the street was selling cherry tomatoes and figs from her own garden. They looked nice, and I decided to get some. Besides, I figured it would be a good deed since she had to sit there in the August heat on a tiny, uncomfortable chair.

I ended up paying much more than I would had I bought them at the marketplace or on a supermarket. Not sure if she did it on purpose. I suspect she did, because she kept telling me different prices and didn’t even weigh the fruit like she did for the previous customer. So I left with a bit of an unpleasant feeling. Like when you want to do something good but people take advantage of you.

But then I sat on a bench, while waiting for my son’s daycare to finish, took out a fresh fig from the bag and just ate it right there and then. It was delicious.

And I thought to myself, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The fact that I overpaid. The fact that she shortchanged me. What matters is I had the right intention, and the result was worth it too.

So instead of spending the rest of my day feeling hard done by and reminding myself that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I figured I’d just enjoy the taste of a fresh fig.

And as soon as I took that decision, my day got a whole lot better.

Wake Up

Wake up

The world’s gone mad

It’s time to run

Pack light

There’s not much time

Take the essentials

Throw in some love and faith

And strength, you’ll need it

And an open mind

Some inner peace

Will do you good

Might even save your life

Forget convictions

They’re a luxury

Pack some common sense

There’s a shortage nowadays

Add loyalty and integrity

You’ll need the courage

And a bit of recklessness

And hope

Don’t forget hope

Reborn

When life gets too much

I run away and hide

I dive into the pages

Lose myself between the lines

Find myself in the ellipses

The silent words soothe my injured soul

Whisk me away to distant worlds

Give me a ride in a time machine

I cry but those tears are cleansing

They are a blessing

A reminder I’m still alive

I laugh and my wounded heart

Purrs like a kitten

Basking in the sunshine

Content and relaxed

My mind wanders

Exploring new worlds

Roams freely above the mountaintops

Drops down the waterfalls

Climbs the rainbows and bounces on clouds

I meet new friends

Follow their journeys

Watch kids grow

Witness lives beginning and ending

Say goodbyes

So many goodbyes

I dive out sooner or later

Can’t avoid it

Nothing lasts forever

Breathing in a lungful

Of the familiar air

I realize

It’s not that bad

I take in my surroundings

The colors are brighter

Or have they always been this way?

Maybe it’s me

I’m the one who’s changed

Recharged

Restarted

Reprogrammed

Reborn