I cleaned house today and found some old poems I wrote on scrap paper. It's interesting to find discarded poems. I remember writing them and feeling frustrated with them; sometimes words can't hold our feelings and are just scratches on a vast plain of our hearts, and there seems to be no release. However, I'm going to let the poems live in the world, as they decided to show up to me again. Maybe they will help someone navigating a similar pain:
**
The storm would come and it must and it did, drowning out the tired song until the haunting stopped.
**
It sits with me, this memory;
The moment of what if
is now aglow
in paintings wild, and faulting words.
The sharpness of the moment
Erodes my present form.
Maybe someday the edges of loss won't cut
my heart as I look back.
**
My shadow sits beside me,
and mirrors life I lead each day.
My shadow, longer growing--
Growing dark where dreams decay
My soul, light, in life's rich soil.
Shadows stretch out, choke, and spoil.
I think of beauty, hope, and sun,
Softly blooming still...I'm not done.
**
I thought I'd sail to wild north
with snowy peaks and ice blue seas;
I'd build my nest in barren trees.
But winds pushed me on to foggy skies,
Dark green moss and soulful ties.
I land on coast and daring sea
The clouds above wander free.
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