I push against the soil,
as I seek once again to bloom,
to feel the warmth of the sun
upon my sprouts that have laid dormant, buried
in the depths of the earth.
My buds creep out into light
longing to be infused by its energy
with the vitality that I once took for granted.
I feel the gentle embrace of the spring breeze,
beckoning me to relax the petals,
and open again to the possibilities of living.
Tag: chronic illness
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To Bloom Again
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What If
On Living With a Chronic Condition
Sweetheart, it’s okay to stop fighting.
It’s not giving up, but coming to terms
with the reality that was not of your choice.
For if combat was an option against
a body that refuses to work the way it once did,
you would be better by now.
The stash of energy that you could draw on before
is now depleted and doesn’t recharge easily.
What if you chose to shower yourself
with kindness and compassion instead?
It wouldn’t undo the physical changes,
but, oh, how it will soothe your weary soul.
It will give you the space to breathe deeply,
What if you treat yourself like
your best friend?
How gentle you would be,
holding them in a warm loving embrace,
meeting them right where they’re at.
What if you allowed yourself to grieve
the life you once lived so easily?
It’s not a sign of weakness or surrender,
but choosing to find some serenity
on a journey that is already wearisome.
I know, sweetheart, that there are days
when it all feels too much, but what if
you took a moment, an hour, a day,
to give yourself a break from the demands in your head
and just be. -
Broken Lens
Nature’s beauty spreads before me,
Begging to be photographed
But the lens is broken when
I take off its cover.
Sometimes, it’s spider cracks.
Other times, chunks of glass are missing.
Each time, it takes me unawares.
How can I forget that my lens hasn’t been repaired?
But the camera sits on the shelf, in pristine shape.It’s my brain misfiring, straining my eyes.
I still see the beauty.
The ability to capture that moment is still there.
With folly, I put myself out there like I’m the old me
Snapping away as if I can trick my brain.
But my eyes, my eyes, they refuse to cooperate
“Rest,” they say. It’s too much.
It will cost you. Are you willing to pay the price?And so, I must listen to the wise voice,
The one who cares for me,
Being okay with the unknown future,
Finding new ways to express myself.
This poem was inspired by a dream that I kept having. I would be somewhere in nature, see the perfect shot, only to have an unusable camera. It was only after I realized it was my brain trying to deal with visual vertigo and I wrote this poem that the dreams stopped.
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 