i don't have the courage
to spill my feelings
or even fight for you

but i also don't have the guts
to finally, cowardly,
and undoubtedly give you up

tethering hopelessly,
i am contented to never be,
contented within an arm's length
for i am yours to hold
but you're not mine to own.

I have been given the boon of freedom
My feet were kicking placed
upon a journey
to discover the exhilarating arctic air
upon the mountain named Independence
It wasn't my idea
to forsake the traditions of my mothers
who each built homes and took the names of men in their youth
whose strength lay in raising strong
children and learning how to be formidably equal partners
It was not my first choice
me, who had from almost infanthood
idolized love
and longed to be rescued by a darling prince
I think perhaps I was my lineage's silliest daughter
my flights of fancy almost ruined me
the cliffs of my foothills more dangerous than the peak
I now eagerly climb toward
For now I see that glittering helm
that sun graced pyramid
that promises the reward
that self-love brings
Peace
the complete rest of contentment
the gift of eternal passion
that can never be stolen
or caused to be ****** inside a desperate pairing
There is no need for a marriage of convenience
Nor a tryst of loneliness
No shackles formed from crippling self-consciousness
But only deep, thrilling, ice-cold self-acceptance
I AM whole

I want for few, as you know:
be here with you and the snow.

-

Among the constellations
sail upside-down
the vessels of old men who
have risen from their
earth bound material

keeping with them the footwear
they had on in that final moment
when each saw their remains
through The Divine Mirror:

two are embracing the masts
for unrenewable security

one grips the railing, convinced
he may fall back

still another holds tightly to the
chains of his anchor

But one lies face up on the deck,
content that his reflections will
never haunt him

he holds his hand out, extending
fingers into a celestial calm,
causing wakes

a destiny uncertain,
he flings his shoes
downward—

back into the sky...


"finding grace above the seas"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

.

Everything that kept me awake most nights no longer bother me, all the white noise I kept hearing was gone.

They were right, it is so much harder to write about things you cannot relate to - I can no longer write poems about longing and melancholy.

This is what it feels like to be a writer who has already been healed.

I am happy.

The reality is that there is a difference between love and need.
The understanding of both is only evident when true love is found and the contrasts revealed.
Only then are hearts, minds and souls contented as one.