Categories
Poetry

Gentle

I try to be gentle with the girl inside me.

She is imperfect.

She hurts, and she hurts others

as she tries her best to be.

She thinks and she thinks,

and she doesn’t think enough

until something in the air breaks

and tells her,

‘Hush. Be kind to the one that matters most in your world.’

And so I try to listen to the air as it crackles.

And so I surrender

as I wait for my sunflower to bloom.

photo of woman in black dress standing on sunflower field
Photo by Noelle Otto on Pexels.com

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s