The right floor.

Catching yourself,
And who you’re not.
Or who you don’t want to be.
Catching yourself,
Before it’s too much,
For your heart to see.
Remembering, reminding yourself,
That strength is at the core.
Remember who you are,
And choose the lift to the right floor.

Valuing the moment.

Was that a little sign of hope?
Can I keep this moment’s smile?
Can I hold it close, embrace it?
I know it won’t last a good mile,
But it’s here, it’s now, it’s present,
As I aim to be.
Valuing the moment.
Is that the definition of free?

Nothing to say.

I am quiet because there are no words,
That I can bring to mind,
That would make this any better.
I fear they would make me sound unkind.
I’m focusing on what I can do,
Just the little things, each day.
My mind is taken up with them,
So I have nothing to say.

Seem.

I see the reason behind your decision,
And it makes me think less of you.
You have no place to check my actions.
It is not something you can do.
Your choice to look down on me,
Attemps to control the decisions I make,
Make your claims, your emotions,
Seem a little fake.

No price.

I start with being grateful,
But then there is the twist.
At my core I am still grateful,
But I mourn the things I’ve missed.
I will push on through this life, keep striving,
Fighting the terrors sent our way,
But I do not want this for you.
There is no price that I won’t pay.

A different fork.

Seeing an image of the present,
Of a life I did not lead,
Of a journey that took a different fork,
Was a jab that didn’t quite bleed.
I can still feel the tingle,
I can still feel the nick,
It hit in a way I did not expect,
Cutting me to the quick.
I brushed it off in the moment,
But it’s sitting in the back of my mind.
I’m attempting to be grateful,
And to my heart, be kind.
I had done so well in riding the moment,
Seeking out how I am blessed,
But this was a quick reminder,
That perhaps I should not rest.

The weeds.

When I am down on paper,
It seems there’s so much more.
When I am down on paper,
You would think that I could roar.
I remember her, through a haze.
As a memory she’s fond but distant.
I would let her go, melt away,
But life is more insistent.
It favours someone like her,
Bowing to its needs,
So I must do my best to raise her,
Though she is tangled in these weeds.

Steer.

I don’t know how I’m feeling,
It was an overwhelming day,
In a lost period of life.
I do not know just what to say.
I cannot make things better,
Cannot whisk away the fear.
I have only what I’m giving,
Aboard this boat I do not steer.

Harvest.

Sometimes the nightmares feel more real,
Or at least seem to make more sense.
How quickly lives can change,
And gone, the recompense.
How fast the spiral turns,
And everything can go.
Sometimes what you reap,
Is rot from seeds you did not sow.

A life that humbles.

Something moving, something shifting,
But I’m not in a place to grasp.
I am still here in this life.  
I am secured by this rusty clasp.
Somethings require a measured move.
Loved ones need protecting.
I am tired, forever tired.
This is not what I was expecting.
Still something is moving, something is shifting.
The earth below me rumbles.
I do not know what the outcome will be.
This is a life that humbles.

In the haze.

When life is constant waiting.
When life is wondering when.
When you cannot think of now,
Without thinking back to when.
I am planning for the future,
But with one foot in the haze.
I want a hopeful resolution,
To closure on these days.

Years before.

I sometimes contemplate,
What the girl would think of me.
Would she be compassionate?
Would she see things how I see,
Them and what’s before me,
What I’ve done and choices made.
Would she understand the hard decisions,
And how hearts and nerves get frayed.
She wouldn’t understand motherhood,
Not the way it burns your core.
I know because I was her,
So many years before

That horizon.

This was not the day I expected,
As I tried to keep my fears inside.
I know the moments coming,
I know I cannot hide.
I’m trying not to live by,
The fear of what’s ahead.
I’m trying to live in the now,
And not where I’ll be led.
In essence I just keep on moving.
Trying not to pause, to think.
If the horizon ever looks clearer,
Then I’ll stop to pause and drink.

Ticking clock.

I know the clock is ticking.
I know I’m losing time. 
I know the bell will toll,
And I will face the climb.
I know what I would like,
And I know so well the fear.
I do not want the peeling.
It’s not something I’m ready to hear.  

Mine to keep.

Another day that did not stop,
But it helps stave off the mental rot.
It helps prevent the overthinking,
The worry and the sense of sinking.
It’s a countdown, but if distracted,
I can feel as if I’ve overreacted.
That this isn’t just a waiting game,
Until they release next level pain.
I need tonight to give me sleep,
And dreams as if,
Peace were mine to keep.

Bounties.

My days are shorter,
Than they used to be,
Yet filled with no air.
There’s no space for me.
I could take some back,
It’s in my power,
Whether minutes,
Or a stolen hour,
But this isn’t my time,
This is a swamp to wade.
I need to push on through,
Sink deep my spade.
This time is for grafting,
For not drowning in life.
I can take my time,
When bounties are rife.

Filling gaps

I can not be who you want me to be,
When I am busy filling the gaps.
I cannot put you first,
When I’m still running laps.
I understand why you want it,
But it cannot be my role.
That’s for someone else right now,
Someone closer to whole.

My fleece.

My nature is to graft,
To take it on and push on through.
My nature is to be kind,
Not out myself ahead of you.
My nature is being challenged.
My nature is being tested.
My nature is firing beneath,
When I am not fully rested.
Am I too just too kind, too patient,
Like they would say too much I thought?
Should I stand my ground, be angry,
Like some say I really ought?
Neither way will change things.
Neither way brings me peace.
So I wrap myself in isolation,
And set free my friends, my fleece.

The burr.

As I head home, I feel the air.
I inhale, I start to breathe.
I count down through the moments,
Waiting ‘til I leave.
It doesn’t mean it isn’t pleasant,
I just know things can go wrong.
I do not need anymore nervous energy,
It’s not my chosen song.
I prefer calmer, quieter beauty.
I seek a peace I can enjoy.
The burr that’s in my shoe,
Does more than just annoy.

Break this loose.

I don’t need signs as to how I feel,
But I feel gifted by excuse.
I cannot be direct with it,
But let weather break this loose.
I know in my heart how I feel,
But it’s not my place to sway.
I will do what I have to do,
But love that nature is having a say.

Stomach curls.

A little positive human interaction,
Was all it took to switch up the mood.
A little care from others,
And not allowed to sit and brood.
Then I find I let you down,
And my stomach curls in fear.
You are everything to me.
You are almost all that I hold dear.
My former mood returns.
I want to push thoughts from my mind.
In trying to take care of you,
I end up being unkind.
These lessons I must keep learning,
Always at expense.
What can I do to fix this?
What counts as recompense?

Spark.

When you’ve celebrated a success,
That turned out to be a loss.  
When you seem no longer employable,
Yet you were once the boss.
When life has taken turns,
You never thought it would.
When things go devastatingly wrong,
Even though you have been ‘good’.
Hold your heart,
Deepend the breathing,
Hold your tongue,
Before words start leaving.
This may not be your golden time,
It may seem forever dark,
But look to the joys you have,
And let them be your spark.

Neither, nor.

The dream is there, occasionally
But neither real wish, nor plan.
It would break so many hearts,
And is not something I can,
Justify or truly contemplate.
This life no longer mine to live.
I have a share in this reality,
I can’t take more than I give.

Control to shift.

When something forces you to pause,
And the tiredness seeps in,
That is  when you know,
Some changes must begin.
It’s not in your control to shift completely,
It will have to take its time.
It must be slow and subtle,
And must not cost a dime.
Today, though, is for pausing.
Today, is for resting deep.
Today is for accepting,
That this body and mind needs sleep.

Complete.

If I could make those hours,
Last the length of time,
My heart would be at its best,
And I would honestly be fine.
I wish I could make those hours,
Be who I always am for you,
But the sky is sometimes grey,
And I am calmer in the blue.
If I could have those hours,
Always on repeat,
I would be who I want I be,
And I would be complete.

Wanting forward.

When front and centre is the mix,
Of misfortuneqns gratitude,
You know that a contributing factor,
Is your mood and attitude.
Should I feel hard done by, or grateful?
As I review my spot.
Just where exactly do I sit,
In the scale or have and not?
I wish that things were so much better,
But know they could be so much worse.
So I hang here, swinging,
Wanting forward and not reverse.

Navigate my best.

In amongst this chaos,
I can hear just my own fear.
One that wants to run away,
But yet to always be here.
The two not mutually exclusive,
They’re born of the same desire,
The thing that gets me up in the morning,
And the things that makes me tire.
Here I walk with nerves,
Here I navigate my best.
Then it’s left to fate.
I can only do my best.

Heart on edge.

This is not what I wanted.
This puts my heart on edge.
I want to focus on the important things,
Not balancing on this ledge.
My heart is looking for the linings,
Silver, or even grey.
It’s hoping, but still frightened.
It seems life will always be this way.

My last card.

If you need me,
I will be here, broken.
A shadow has been cast.
If you need me,
I’ll be here,
But I’m not her, of the past.
If you need me,
I’ll do my best.
I always try so hard.
I won’t,
Actively volunteer though,
I’m down to my last card.
I’m running on reserves,
My heart knows,
It isn’t right.
I’m doing the best I can.
I’m trying,
To win this fight.

Tainting wash.

Today I have been judged,
On the smallest of the facts.
It was interesting to see them,
And how their soul reacts.
If this life has taught me anything,
It’s how priorities are key,
And unless they come to challenge,
It will taint but wash off me.

Slipping.

It’s slipping.  It’s clearly slipping.
Can I use my health as an excuse?
Can I play around with reasons,
And hide behind the obtuse,
Phrases I give to others,
As I tiptoe through this phase.
When I pass through the other side,
Will I view this through a haze,
Of sleepless moments silent,
Of daytime moments rushed?
Will I see a heart held strong,
Or a woman crushed?