Every time I sink my head in shame at losing what is left of any fight in me, I clearly see the ground and find that I’m still standing, and my eyes are far above it. Ever more nearsighted as I age, my feet look fuzzy but unmoving, planted firmly somewhere that I can’t recall the journey to, but there I am.
Every day now is a school day, every day a lesson is learned, but then I thought I knew it all at twenty-five. So is the world revealing just a little at a time or is it changing and with the changing, so am I? The daily routine calls and at long last I’ve given in, but discovered that it all can be quickly done and over with if faced head-on. Avoidance was a hiding place that grew with need; accumulated needs that bore the need to run away into a safe and quiet cave where I could think and write and write and think. But doing what is needed isn’t shackling nor overwhelming if done with haste and without hatred. It grants a freedom from itself when need is taken care of. Its weight is lifted and its want erased from the mind to leave it clean for what is more important to consider. Life, death, friendship, despair and hope and fear and love. And words to use in any way I want.
Steadfast, slowly moving onward, trying hard for confidence and settling for comfort. And inner peace.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology