I’m right where I’m supposed to be
Right here, right now

Letting go
Letting go
Letting go
Of all that does not serve me
Of all that stunts my growth

Breathing in
Breathing in
Breathing in
Bravery
Patience
And compassion

To spread love and light
In the kindest of fashions.

I’m having the best day
I’m in my zone
The force is with me
As I effortlessly flow
Empowering all around me
With the confidence to grow.

People push my buttons
Everywhere I go
Intentional or not
They constantly push me
To grow
Step outside my boundaries
Find new ways to know
What I’m comfortable with
What I won’t allow
And ways to glow.

It’s true that sometime
bare limb and sprig can be beautiful,
that dun lands can show stark heart,
but for this diurnal chimp
the cough of leaves remembered,
a view engorged,
is deeply needed

In these clay-covered hands
I hold the last droplets of water
We laugh off the miseries
Drinking steaming tea
Stepping into pools of mud
Purposefully
Laughter on a leash
Follows us wholeheartedly
We hold onto the clouds
So that we don’t fall asleep
And miss these terracotta skies
That match our skin
Where within transcribed
Are hopes and dreams
A flower you are
So preciously delicate
And I’m here praying
That whatever I have left
Is enough to
Sustain
Your growth
Out of this midnight grief

We need to stop for a moment
and take a breath to be able
to return to what we hoped for.

Like remembering childhood
and the ways we learn to grow into adults
even though we never really understand anything that we have been through;
playing football in the field next to the house after school,
or rent a game console set for a weekend night,
or spend the next day watching television cartoons.

Let's remember what memory has given us for the good things in the past
that we may now think of as something we can't get back.

It's true, that never happens again, even if we try,
but the feeling is no longer the same as childhood being put on things
that should now earn an adult title.

Let's laugh in silence at all the fond memories of childhood,
even though now voices of the pain of waking up are trying to come in and dominate.

Let's reminisce,
and lose ourselves
in the hope of the present.

Writing
is not just about therapy,
but it is the love
that makes something impossible
become possible.
You will grow
among them in hope
and you will decide
to appreciate yourself
in the end.

I must've skipped that day in school,
when we were taught how to manage pain.