The trees cast shadows into the night,
Stay until morning light,
The sun will rise
And all will know
For all the trees begin to glow.
These magic trees,
Give a new sense of life.
To those waiting for their chance
But tell me will the trees,
Give me a glance into the person I can be?
Or am I destined only to see the simple, yet ordinary, tree?
Talking To The Moon
My thoughts are quiet as I stare into the blackness of night and don’t hear a sound. I can only see the abyss that lies ahead that is illuminated by the moon. Illuminated are my hopes, dreams, and a voice inside that calls to me. Where this path leads, I can’t be sure. It tells me never to give up on myself, and go forward in this life and forge my path to become a stronger woman. It’s a small voice, really, one that is shown only by the moon’s glow. But once it starts to appear, I know that there is nothing in this world that can stop me. Although the path is dark and bumpy at times, at least it’s the path I chose for myself. So, I guess only the future and the moon know what lies ahead. And I’m okay with that because at least I have the moon’s glow to keep me warm and light the way.
The Veil
The days that pass seem longer than the rest as I walk up and down my street. For years I have seen a distorted figure behind a high window on my street. Behind the glass, a figure used to rest in a sheer lace veil away from the world. The cover that hid them seemed permanent as they sat in their window watching the world below. I bet not one soul on the outside could tell you what used to lay underneath the veil. I heard the being who wore the mask placed it there a long time ago for a particular reason. And that reason was protection. Because the creature lying underneath knew that if no one ever saw the person they were, they couldn’t get hurt. Because if people left them, they could say it was because they didn’t understand the person they indeed were. And it took years for that person in their shear covered veil to realize that the problem wasn’t the world. Instead, the problem was inside themselves. Over time, this person grew tired of hiding away. They never felt seen by anyone around them. And eventually, the day came where they wanted to remove their protection. And they did.
The veil that once hid me from this world now lay on my floor. It’s not in the trash or hidden away but remains a reminder of how important it is for me to live and not be afraid to show who I am underneath. I’ve grown to realize that that veil served me no purpose. Because what’s the point in living if you’re always hidden?
The Waves
The waves that crash against my feet feel like a thousand butterfly kisses grazing my skin. The waves are so soft and light as they wash onto the shore. I watch as the water ebbs and flows between my toes, and I can’t help but feel grateful for this moment. Thankful to breathe the salty ocean air and feel the breeze on my skin.
I soon stare out at the lightly colored horizon and can’t help but wonder what lies behind. The clouds create shadows and wispy figures that blow in the breeze—swaying back and forth to and fro. I can’t help but notice through the translucent waves I see a pile of rocks buried in the sand. It looks tall and sturdy, but part of me wonders how something under so much pressure can withhold the waves and remain in place. I can’t help but hope that one day I will be that sturdy, that no outside forces of the world disfigure my shape. But until then, I suppose I’ll continue to watch the waves crash against my feet.
Light
There’s this light inside me,
That I once thought was lost
A fire that has been covered for so long
I thought I’d never find it again
Because it was buried under humiliation and lies
Humiliated of who I was and the things I had seen
But one thing I’ve learned
I shouldn’t be sorry for being me
And part of being me is accepting my past
So, I’m going to take that light
And let it blossom and break the glass
That has always enclosed me in my cage
So the world can always see
The person I was born to be.
My Broken Doll
I have this broken doll at the bottom of my drawer. She remains hidden from the outside world. Her limbs are twisted, and her hair knotted. Her white legs are covered in stains. A once pristine porcelain doll is now busted and shattered. Although she is battered and bruised from the years, I keep her. A thing that was once so beautiful doesn’t deserve to be thrown away with the trash. If anything, she deserves her own glass enclosure, preserving her beauty that won’t let her decay further. But I’m afraid my friends that life doesn’t work that way. Time doesn’t work that way. Because with time comes aging and the loss of beauty. Sometimes we become broken or hideous to those around us. But only after we lose our beauty do we truly see the characters hiding underneath our exterior. Only once we shed these facades will we see our real strength. Because without that safety net, all we have is ourselves.
This Feeling
There is this feeling
I cannot hide
It is a feeling
That I’ve harbored inside
For quite some time
It’s red and daunting
And out of control
How it came to be
I already know
For the fury, I feel
Became my coping mechanism
To deal with life’s unknowns
But now I must rid this feeling,
So, I’ll surrender
And let the feelings wash over me
And accept I cannot control
The world unknown
For this feeling is not who I am
Because now, I know it only hides
And distorts
Who I truly am inside
A Saturday Afternoon
On a Saturday afternoon, I sit silently in my bedroom on the soft white carpet. I wiggle my toes between the fibers as I listen carefully to the rain as it lightly pings on my roof. I slowly begin to gaze out my bay window down at the beauty that surrounds me. The vibrant forest and the sounds of the rain ease my mind as I watch the rainwater flow down the street. And I can’t help but feel at peace, at peace with myself and with the world. The sounds surrounding me aren’t filled with worry or fear. Instead, they possess a sign of extraordinary courage, courage so powerful, so great. Because the thunder never seems to mind who it disturbs. Instead, the thunder bangs and roars at whatever volume it deems necessary, no matter the cost to those affected. I envy that kind of freedom; to move about life being whatever one wants and not worrying about the social ramifications.
As my mind wanders, I stare into the distance at the tall daunting trees in the distance. They are filled with a quiet restlessness. I can hear them whisper in the wind, calling out to me. Their vibrant leaves hold the secrets of the past that will one day be told to the next generation. How will these secrets be revealed, you ask? Through their sounds, because if you listen carefully to the rustling of the leaves, they bare all the secrets one could ever hope to learn. The key is to listen, truly listen to the things that surround us, instead of filling our minds with clutter. Perhaps only then will we find the peace we so desperately search for in this world.
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