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Mel_0308Poems
Today feels smooth, like the world decided to glide instead of walk. But beneath my skin, anxiousness curls around me like a blanket too warm to remove, too familiar to fear. I keep remembering yesterday, and the day before that how everything felt bright, how every effort looked like a seed finally learning how to open. For a moment, I believed in the harvest. But today, I’m holding anxiety’s hand. Not by choice, but the way someone grips a railing when the floor feels unsure. I tell myself I’ll let go by the end of the week, that this feeling is temporary, that the storm is brief. But what if it isn’t? What if I have to walk with this knot longer than I planned? Will the outcome still bloom? Will the fruit of all my quiet work finally show its face? Will everything I prayed for remember to arrive? And if it does will I recognize it? Will I know, deep down, that this ache was part of the path, that this hand I’m holding wasn’t meant to guide me, only keep me company until the light remembers my name? I ask myself, softly: Will I get what I’ve earned? Will all this waiting mean something? Maybe the answer is already on its way. Maybe today is just the breath before the becoming.
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Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 7:24 AM UTC
Today
Today feels smooth, like the world decided to glide instead of walk. But beneath my skin, anxiousness curls around me like a blanket too warm to remove, too familiar to fear. I keep remembering yesterday, and the day before that how everything felt bright, how every effort looked like a seed finally learning how to open. For a moment, I believed in the harvest. But today, I’m holding anxiety’s hand. Not by choice, but the way someone grips a railing when the floor feels unsure. I tell myself I’ll let go by the end of the week, that this feeling is temporary, that the storm is brief. But what if it isn’t? What if I have to walk with this knot longer than I planned? Will the outcome still bloom? Will the fruit of all my quiet work finally show its face? Will everything I prayed for remember to arrive? And if it does will I recognize it? Will I know, deep down, that this ache was part of the path, that this hand I’m holding wasn’t meant to guide me, only keep me company until the light remembers my name? I ask myself, softly: Will I get what I’ve earned? Will all this waiting mean something? Maybe the answer is already on its way. Maybe today is just the breath before the becoming.
Mel_0308
Written by
Mel_0308
F/Zimbabwe
Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 7:24 AM UTC
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