Standing
Feet sunken into the souls of my shoes
Dusted in the weeks labor.
Standing
Legs stiff yet movable.
Not conscious of the weight they bare,
Yet relentlessly standing anyway.
Calm
Is my body, yet wicked is my mind
Calm
Are my words, yet wrecked is my heart
Here I stand
Pruning this 'wild rose'
As I'm pruning I recognize
That in order to nurture new growth within myself,
I must prune off the old. The decayed. The crimpled.
The forgotten leaves left unturned and remained unseen to rot away back into the soil.
Only to become new growth in another time.
Figuratively molting
Emotionally pruning
Spiritually lifting
Standing calmly in the eye of the storm
Reckoning with all my life's choices
Swirling about my head.
Melting into layers of unformatted grains of sand
Passing through my dimensional existence
With every wave,
Brings a new breath of fresh air.
In which I embrace deeply..
While I remain..
Here..
Standing
Feet sunken into the souls of my shoes
Dusted in the weeks labor
~N
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