Start to fly.

Last one more.  

One more again.  

Pray it doesn’t turn to ten.  

One more deep breath.  

One more sigh.  

Hope the days will start to fly.  

No rest.

When you feel it will never end,
And this how your life you’ll spend.
You’re trying, trying, doing your best,
But there’s no let up.  There’s no rest.

Back to land.

I can feel the earth moving.
I feel tremors beneath my feet.
I don’t know what is coming,
But it does not smell so sweet.
I had hoped things were rising,
Floating back to land.
It no longer feels like that,
And I don’t know where I stand.

Signs to see.

It strikes me that I sat there once,
At the start of what I now know,
And here I am again,
Almost toe to toe.
Brought to tears, then somewhat lifted.
Wishing to be carried,
Wanting to reach a place,
Where I am not this harried.
I see a pattern to read,
Signs to see,
I just need time,
To return to me.

Worrying for cloud.

I wanted progress,
I wanted release,
But I’m stuck here,
Stifled by this fleece.
I wanted to return,
To myself, to before,
Or forward to something better,
Just steadier on the floor.
I want to smile at rainbows,
Without worrying for cloud.
I want all the things,
I can’t say out loud.

A waste?

When through all the weeks of trying,
It happens just the same,
Do you regret the effort,
Is it a waste, a shame?
Do you lapse in the future?
None of that’s for me.
Hoping, and then letting it go,
But not willing to let it be.

Polishing

Wishing turns to praying,
When you just don’t see how,
You can this one more day,
Dangling from a bough.
When one foot before the other,
Has barely got you this far,
And where you want to be,
Is polishing her star.