Not yet.

I,
I am not done.
I,
I am not done yet.
I,
Will find it.
Be it old,
Or be it new.
I am undone,
But I am not done.
I am not done yet.

Your own sake.

There are moments where,
A mind speaks for itself.
Though you thought you placed,
Your feelings on a shelf,
They sometimes fall,
As the earth feels a shake.
What would you do,
For your own sake?

Attic minds.

Does sunlight make things clearer,
Or just cover life with a tint?
Am I making progress,
With this tiny piece of flint?
Am I following a light,
Or lost in a beam that blinds?
What influence the weather,
On dusty, attic minds?

Only this.

If it were this.
If it were only this.
If only it were this.
If the other elements did not exist.
It the only reality were that in my heart.
It would be this.
If...
If only.

Off the floor

When you feel you’ve steered your head,
Into somewhat safer waters,
And your ancestors can still be proud,
Of the ongoing daughters,
But then another little happening,
And you’re receding once more.
The trick is not the falling,
It’s the getting up off the floor.

To give.

It’s easier to sit,
And watch how others live,
Than process what has happened,
And what I’ve had to give.

Reclaiming breath.

I can’t explain the tiny shift,
But my gratitude is clear.
There is an upward motion,
Just tiny but it’s here.
I am grateful, beyond grateful,
For whatever light,
In this dark time.
I am reclaiming breath,
And cherishing what is mine.