Today I would really like to share a poem written during the early morning hours, when I had woken myself coughing again, my brain immediately wide awake, preventing further rest. This is a glimpse of the internal me, I am embracing vulnerability here and hitting the publish button before I talk myself out of sharing.
I carry warm rain drops, shaping puddles of spirited solitude.
I carry a full heart, with my eyes its transparent windows.
I carry a leaden, bewildering fatigue; icy fingers gripping relentlessly.
I carry the rippling sea at midnight, with the moon’s shimmering reflection dancing.
I carry bookshelves labeled overwhelm and exasperation.
I carry a bright red envelope, cradling fragments of permission written on crumpled pages.
I carry allusive emeralds, sublime impressions of perfection.
I carry a patched cape around my shoulders, each permanent thread a woven story.
I carry a tiny silhouette of a silent, powerless child.
I carry a labyrinth of layers, twisting and winding with both perplexity and resolve.
I carry illuminated embers, housing memories of gathered flames.
I carry a faded, enameled kettle, wisps of gentleness wandering cautiously.
I carry the potential of a chandelier of piercing light.
I carry the fate of each sunrise.