When poems come, I let them be what they are, without judgement or the need to refine them. They are an expression of what’s in my heart in a particular moment, and that’s all they need to be.
I am morphing
Drawn by the current
But I am raw,
A reluctant participant in this too-slow unraveling,
I dwell in the shadows cast by my own reflection.
I have travelled too far
And home is a return to my self
But tonight, there is only a candle in the window
and nearly spent,
And my heart has been turned away for so long.
Yet still I shuffle forward
Barely swimming in the river of my yearning
This urge to let go,
To let it wash away
Every trace of my shame and sorrow.
But I give in.
I give in more every day,
With every breath
And every tear.
But still the riverbank holds me.
It is I who clings.
And still that candle flickers.
I wrote this poem when I was going through a slow and deep unravelling of the illusions of my life. Layer by layer, I consciously unmasked the pain I carried and allowed myself to sit in it fully on the path to healing. It’s a process of learning to know and love myself deeply, intimately and in wholeness. This culminated in me shedding the illusions of who I am so that I could re-emerge Phoenix-like, more authentic, less afraid and ready.
I wrote this poem well into the descent of that journey.