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the wind didn’t blow the same,
the trees wouldn’t sway during fall
and the longer the day
the more i’d wait in
until it was dark enough for me to
come out and bloom for you,
in the essence of moonlight.

at least i used to bloom,

for you, i mean.

although every gray shade and
every rough water drop told me
not to,
i bloomed for you.

but you never nourished me,
you left me out to die once the
sun came back up and let the city’s
busy feet trample my bright and vivid

i must admit, my colors came from you,
but now i’ve planted my roots somewhere else.

where wind gracefully caresses with kindness,
somewhere the trees dance to the beat of the rain
and where the longer the day
the more time i have to bloom.

even while in the dark, i’m seen now,
for my colors. that’s all i ever really wanted.

from you, i mean.

please like and repost if you enjoyed!
shamamama Apr 2019
......Finding the words
                            to describe the feelings.....

                        Just by moving through the ocean

Inside, I am swimming,
swimming to get away,
swimming to come home
to what I knew.
I know I can never be the same again
Knowing  what I know now.

I feel the hollow dust of
of confusion
swirling inside me
I feel my impossibility---

like I am trying

to catch

each dust particle:

every old idea I have ever had,

before it lands and

makes me sneeze --only to blow

all the dust particles back into chaos,

so I hold my breath....


....breathe in.....

...exhale ....s  l  o  w   l  y .......

.....embody this moment....

and become, one who CAN.

...leave this terrestrial moment....

...and go into the water....

And when I imagine
I am the whale,
I am the vastness within and around
I can just breathe and swim

I catch
all the plankton spinning in chaos
after they have been
cast into the ocean currents
and the plankton come to me,
the plankton feed me
one by one--
I can fill my belly
with all these
            d o t s              o   f
                    f     o     o      d
Gathering, harvesting,
plankton combing through my baleen,
I am fed, I am nourished,
just by moving through the ocean.
I am free.
Sometimes its find the right words to describe the feelings inside.

— The End —