Could you be peaceful
So dangerous is how a woman wronged can feel. The depths of her anguish can reel in tight spaces, making them claustrophobic. And still in the bleakest moments there is this strand of courage that slaps us so hard. Pressing all of our grit to a standing point. A halt in life to just reflect. Just review.
Whatever it may be. The corrections. The challenges. The hurdles that knock us down, we still find this one lasting hope that presses it's light inside our spirit. We soar.
Even when we crash. We want to crush those who denied us. Yet we see the reality in that, which proves to be pointless because only person even listening is us.
Fruitless would be the rewards if we acted out upon those who knew they could destroy everything we hoped for.
And. Still.
We cry. We show our emotions in the way we walk. The way we shout to others not to fall into the cracks of deceivers. We try our best to keep moving our feet one after the next.
And when it just seems as though no more gumption is in us, we fall. We drown inside everything that we held together. We let the glue crack. We let ourselves go. We put on the attitude of we don't care.
Yet we do. But we are so tired of trying.
Just so exhausted in trying to maintain that happy go lucky appearance. The need to just duke it out and bawl until nightmares persist.
Just to find ourselves again. Emptied. Lost of sorts. Just completely wiped clean of the whole collection of pain and disappointment.
When we get to that point we find ourselves free. I know I did. I knew that there was no need to have such intense anger towards anyone. And on my days of struggling and downfall of tears I still see hope.
My hope that all the ways I am recovering find me whole. As much as none makes sense now, I am grateful for the worst turns in my life. This grave digging experience I am currently in, seems a defining moment of dying. Yet I have proof that a clearing has happened before and my remission did go through late last year.
I can only think positive that this year will produce the same. Though time will tell. All the anguish and disgust I held high for many just dissolved the day I got my letter tell me the news.
What else could I do but just let go. Forgo the hope of dreams I wanted in that line of thoughts.
Instead when I cleared my head of the old hopes and dreams, I opened my mind to other grand opportunities. Even was capable of giving new promises.
For me that is the greatest win of a war than the year before. And today, yes I have my moments where I want hugs from you. I even want to talk to you. Yet I know I cannot, will not. And how does that make me feel?
Nothing. I cannot do anything but shrug and keep moving in the newer circles I am making, improving who I am. So I survive more months than expected of me.
So that tears the anger, the deep set void, I had once, inside of me. I tore it from myself because it did more harm than good. And certainly I am a different woman than just a few months back.
Because of just one piece of paper. I cannot go back. I just have to smile and keep raking through the ups and downs of what I am living.
But the idea is that I am living. I am breathing. And for that I am grateful to be given more time. All in hopes the next few months proves to be another scratching off of tissues. One certainly hopes. I continue to keep living each part of my days as though my goals are finished as I fall to sleep each night.
And I am at peace with that.
Would you be?
Whatever it may be. The corrections. The challenges. The hurdles that knock us down, we still find this one lasting hope that presses it's light inside our spirit. We soar.
Even when we crash. We want to crush those who denied us. Yet we see the reality in that, which proves to be pointless because only person even listening is us.
Fruitless would be the rewards if we acted out upon those who knew they could destroy everything we hoped for.
And. Still.
We cry. We show our emotions in the way we walk. The way we shout to others not to fall into the cracks of deceivers. We try our best to keep moving our feet one after the next.
And when it just seems as though no more gumption is in us, we fall. We drown inside everything that we held together. We let the glue crack. We let ourselves go. We put on the attitude of we don't care.
Yet we do. But we are so tired of trying.
Just so exhausted in trying to maintain that happy go lucky appearance. The need to just duke it out and bawl until nightmares persist.
Just to find ourselves again. Emptied. Lost of sorts. Just completely wiped clean of the whole collection of pain and disappointment.
When we get to that point we find ourselves free. I know I did. I knew that there was no need to have such intense anger towards anyone. And on my days of struggling and downfall of tears I still see hope.
My hope that all the ways I am recovering find me whole. As much as none makes sense now, I am grateful for the worst turns in my life. This grave digging experience I am currently in, seems a defining moment of dying. Yet I have proof that a clearing has happened before and my remission did go through late last year.
I can only think positive that this year will produce the same. Though time will tell. All the anguish and disgust I held high for many just dissolved the day I got my letter tell me the news.
What else could I do but just let go. Forgo the hope of dreams I wanted in that line of thoughts.
Instead when I cleared my head of the old hopes and dreams, I opened my mind to other grand opportunities. Even was capable of giving new promises.
For me that is the greatest win of a war than the year before. And today, yes I have my moments where I want hugs from you. I even want to talk to you. Yet I know I cannot, will not. And how does that make me feel?
Nothing. I cannot do anything but shrug and keep moving in the newer circles I am making, improving who I am. So I survive more months than expected of me.
So that tears the anger, the deep set void, I had once, inside of me. I tore it from myself because it did more harm than good. And certainly I am a different woman than just a few months back.
Because of just one piece of paper. I cannot go back. I just have to smile and keep raking through the ups and downs of what I am living.
But the idea is that I am living. I am breathing. And for that I am grateful to be given more time. All in hopes the next few months proves to be another scratching off of tissues. One certainly hopes. I continue to keep living each part of my days as though my goals are finished as I fall to sleep each night.
And I am at peace with that.
Would you be?
Comments
Post a Comment