When the days seem dark, sweetheart,
and you feel like you are barely holding on,
remember, you’ve been here before.
The seaweed twisting around your ankles,
trying their best to pull you under.
Your mighty struggle brought you
to the point of exhaustion,
with your arms flailing, barely holding your head above water.
It was only when you stopped resisting
that you let the sea carry you, finally able to breathe.
Then you were able to see that the storm clouds had passed
and the open blue sky had been there all along.
Once again, the seaweed loosened its grip
as you floated to shore.
Dear one, storms will come and go,
but you know how to swim.
Tag: Poems
-

Navigating Life’s Storms
-

Embracing Imperfection
“Perfect is the enemy of good,” attributed to Voltaire
How did that sneaky voice slip into my head,
telling me that perfection was attainable?
Was it years of hearing, “practice makes perfect”
that stopped me in my tracks when I longed to
break out of the expected,
keeping me caged in conformity?
Could it have been apprehension
of what other people might think or say?
It was a slow journey,
fighting against self-doubt and feelings of not enough.
I walked with discomfort as I forged ahead
on this uncharted path.
Sometimes the vines of uncertainty
would wrap around me, wanting me to stay put.
Soon, they held no sway over me,
and fell to the wayside.
When I began to let go
of the noise in my head that sought to contain me,
I found a fearless voice waiting to sing,
the shining me that had been there all along. -

Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick
When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
I picture my mother looking back at me.
She was not one to fuss with makeup,
but always applied her lipstick with care.
Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
shining my light for the world to see. -

To Bloom Again
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.

