Categories
Life

Quietly Contemplating

I’m an explosion of heart. Tender and soft, especially of late. Quietly contemplating, missing the people I love, whispering a subtle question to the world of nothing around me.

Where am I going, and who am I? So much of me has become new. It is a sure sign that there is no fixed identity, as much as we cling to who we think we are and tell our stories until well beyond their used by date.

I nurse a quiet hope in my heart that, someday, I will have crossed a bridge between not knowing and finally knowing life and its meaning.

Life is a journey, this much I know.

Life is a teacher, of this I am also certain.

This understanding is, in itself, a beautiful thing.

Can I let go fully, though, and allow life to happen effortlessly, and without a care?

I ask the small voice of my heart, and she smiles in response.

I know nothing of what that smile means.

Not yet, anyway.

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Let Go

Let go.

For peace.

Categories
Poetry

I Am This

I have decided

there is a way life should be,

a way I should be.

As a woman.

As a mum.

As a fictional character

plucked perfectly from the sky

of humanity.

And I run

and I run

and I run to get there.

To be that.

And I run until I decide

that I don’t have to run there.

Because I am here.

I am this.

I am this.

Categories
Poetry

Bloom

No rose

(not a single one)

ever bloomed in an instant.

Listen to the silence

of the journey.

Let the rose bloom

as she will.

Categories
Poetry

The Wind

Oh, but darling.

The wind will take you, anyway.

Ain’t no fighting the wind, darling.

Ain’t no fighting the wind.

Categories
Poetry

The Next Step

I have spent so much time

searching for the next step,

and yet

the next step

has always been taken.

With no need to search.

Categories
Poetry

As She Will

The sun is one

but never can shine

as one.

Her rays will splay,

and always touch the world

(in slices)

as they do.

How they splay

is a question for each new moment.

Who they will touch,

and in what way:

undiscovered.

The sun will shine as she will.

The sun will always shine

as she will.

Categories
Poetry

Control

Control.

Lack of it.

Need for it.

Flight from it.

Control.

There will always be

hunger

for freedom.

Photo by Emre Kuzu on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Lake Humanity

People say

there are certain truths

that whistle louder

through the weeping willows

of lake humanity.

Love

bounces and drifts

over the still waters,

sweet and true.

Hate

gathers in clumps of stone

and ice

and shatters the peaceful flow,

once clear and blue.

Life

among the willows

is true in all forms.

Life

among the willows

is true

in all forms.

Categories
Life

This Quiet Place

I’m feeling a little tender, today.

It’s a lovely feeling, don’t get me wrong. Soft and sweet, like a warm rainy day. It’s a feeling I’ve sat with at various points over the last few years, a new softness that has grown into me like the sweetest of dreams.

It’s just…it’s an aching quiet, actually, is what it is.

A middle land. A place for me to live within the beauty of this moment, a place to also feel the absence of the hearts and souls that bring me to life. How beautiful it is to connect with souls who fill you with life itself. How beautiful it is to love them. If only I could bottle them and keep them with me always.

I’ll never regret a moment of this winding life.

The aches that have held me so firmly in place some days, the internal fights that have cracked me open. The surrender. It’s all a part of it, isn’t it? This life we all try so hard to control— there is no controlling it. Even if we could catch the wind in a jar…how could we possibly know it was in there?

I am handing you this small patch of quiet in the hopes you might pin it to your heart, or your soul, or somewhere nice. That the soft of me might bring you some comfort, or friendship, or whatever it is that might be missing for you in this moment.

To those friends I am missing: I love you. You are a part of me.

To those I will never meet again, it was sweet. (Or not. Just sayin’)

And to the parts of me that are magically brewing in some invisible place, waiting to be seen and known and touched: I am here.

I will wait.

In this quiet place, I will wait.

woman wearing brown shirt inside room
Photo by Felipe Cespedes on Pexels.com