Refreshed, alert, I am, the result of conking out this afternoon. The past week had me on a torture rack. The demands faced stretched me
Besides, I wrote a new poem, completing it at four a.m. The beginnings of it leapt from my mind last Saturday morning while in bed. Last November my literary self enjoyed a renaissance. Since then, I wrote eight poems, with one in the works. It had been twelve years since I had taken my hand to verse.
Inwardly, my soul was nourished while sculpting the poem during the dark hours of this morning. Carving away unnecessary words provided welcomed relief. It quieted the outline of thoughts screaming within my mind, anticipating this morning's conversation. A chiseled angel of verse appeared when done. The task inspired my imagination. Passion was cobbled with thoughts, everything squeezed into six stanzas.
Seesawing of emotions. Who wants that? Yet, that happened later this morning. Another tsunami. I don't like holding my emotions in line when I am as frustrated as a flea kept in a jar.
Yet, I was an outwardly calm flea this a.m. All for my good and growth. But my inner self banged against the lid of patience. So it often is, when character is stretched for the better.
1. I was honest this morning. It feels good, expressing my values, voicing what troubled me while understanding another person's point of view, discovering their response.
3. For clarity and closure. Soon enough, these will be mine, when I am true to myself, letting someone know my boundaries and needs.
4. For the accuracy of thinking that writing produces. I finished writing an important letter. I am a happier person because I express my voice and have the dignity to reveal my needs, making sure they are met.
I am happier still because I have learned it is my job to meet my needs. I am less frustrated because I know it is not the obligation of the person who disappoints me.
5. For writing a poem. It soothes both heart and mind. It allows the bird of my creativity to be uncaged, allowing it to unfurl its wings and soar.