My back is softly cursing the consuming need to wash a load of laundry that had accumulated for two weeks earlier today but my inner perfectionist is smiling at the almost empty basket. The mind is clinging to these evaporating words for the body listens to the fatigue that comes with bending for hours.
I would love to be able to get them out before they die with my sleep as many of end of day reflections do. Breathe life into this entry on a blockchain journal. Which I wish happened more often but balancing real life has me in a chokehold.
So much time has passed
The bridge of time stood there
And watched the raging water
Flow under it
The struggles came and went
As my lungs waited
For my feet to arrive at a place
Where I can breathe.
I feel a pain that can only be healed by the touch of poetry and vibrant beats. To tap into gratitude, I swim in its skin-burning lake and break down walls of my egotistical miscalculations like where I should be.
The fire at the horizon finds me lost most of the time and the cover of night resurrects the feeling of not having done enough. It is a mind game that keeps me up past midnight wishing that the next pages of my life could reveal them and reassure me that everything will turn out okay.
There ought to be something for this unending spiritual warfare. Yes?
I'm exhausted. Sometimes, I can longer tell when I am living and when it feels like I am here just to exist.
But then I complete a simple task like a chore and hope grows on me. I catch the morning dew before its coat melts from everything it touched during the night. Or the sun as it yellows the sky.
I am reminded of who I am.
The urge to take everything a minute at a time sneaks back home and I let go of the past or the coming one. And then I try to use my present moment to focus on the gentler shades of this life and caress my scars.
I choose to heal in this one.
So much love has spilled
From the shrines of my brokenness
Singing I am enough
Just as I am.
wambuku w.
