Tag: Musing

Categories
Life

A Quiet

There is a quiet, here.

My husband is away, so it’s just me and our sleeping children beneath this roof. In this room, it’s just me and my heart quietly whispering away. What is she saying? I’m not entirely sure.

She’s telling me I worry too much.

That I should remember the wind and her sweet softness. How peacefully she blows, without a thought, without a care or question.

She’s telling me she sees me. That even though, sometimes, life’s tenderness swells to the point of overflowing…I’ll always be okay. My tears could fill an ocean some days. After they fall, though, everything seems a little brighter than it did before, and a little softer, perhaps.

I do like the softness very much.

It feels like peace, it feels like calm, it feels like love.

Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Ballerina

I was a ballerina in a past life.

Of course, I can’t be certain.

But as I look in the mirror,

lift my arms, tilt my neck—

I know this place,

this grace.

And sometimes I wonder why.

person wearing ballet shoes
Photo by Kuya Yus on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Human Unplugged

It’s never an even road.

Life.

To lose yourself

in great chunks of confusion.

To take to the floor,

to scrape at the earth

for answers.

I am love, this I know.

I am peace, this I know.

But I am also a silent mess

of human unplugged,

gasping for air

just like the rest.

We are broken,

and we break others.

We blame

but we are to blame, ourselves.

When will the circle

find it’s neat and tidy

end?

When will the circle find it’s neat and tidy end.

Categories
Life

Alone

Sometimes, I feel alone.

Even when I’m surrounded by people…

I’m not really.

I’m alone, drifting in a rose coloured world of wonder.

I’m not sad about it— feeling alone, that is.

It’s a beautiful place, this world I live in.

I’m just saying:

The world of a dreamy, wide-open soul is sometimes lonely.

Wonderous.

But lonely.

In this world, I sometimes feel like a teeny tiny sailboat trying to float in an ocean of mud and I wonder: ‘Where are the other boats like me?’

Maybe one day I’ll find them.

Maybe one day there’ll be more boats like me.

Maybe.

One day.

photo of people on rowboat during sunset
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com