Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Never lost, never found, always looking.
Old soul, youthful body, now aging.
Mystic mind, restrained by physical boundaries.
Curiosity a source of eternal light.
Born of unity, driven by diversity.
Lone soul, motherhood: never left lonely.
Lost: reborn by push of infancy.
Four pushes and I am new.
Four pushes and I am “mom”.
Find route, sudden fork, choose path.
If you only knew
All the words written for you
Surely you would blush.
From your belly
Speak words that need to be said,
Let not your chance pass,
Stand up and breathe out,
Resonate your sound
I sympathize, dog,
Longing for human contact,
Howling like the wolf,
In wild in a pack,
Not meant to be lone
Benchmarks of my progress
Hooray for me!
Seeming fine to everybody,
And still I worry,
What is sanity when it can slip
So easily?
I’m good, I’m sure,
But how can I be sure?
What if the figurative demons return?
–The ones I was positive
Were exorcized?
Fear of the return is infrequent
But vigilant I remain
Someone needs to be
Watching for the return of
A me I do not want to be
So I go through the motions
The exercise
To keep unisolated my heart and mind
Where do you go, love,
When your words cannot be seen?
Toiling still in life?
–Filling your world with beauty,
In the act of just being
She of Letters 