Return to Grace

Every now and then, the world tries to convince me that I’m broken.
How funny this is, coming from a broken world.
Then, in the silence of my efforts, I look up and realize that my resilience is still mighty and that my indomitable spirit is still soaring.
I am not broken, I am just beginning.
The world is opening before me, and I am receiving it with care.
I feel my grit and resolve rise within me, and I smile because they have not waned.
My spirit was fortified in fire; it can withstand a little rain.
I turn inward, more gentle with myself.
I return to grace.

-Rhia Clay

Here,
Let me wet
your quill
That's what
I call
a fresh
start

Hug me tight until
I can smell you,
Comforting as blissful blue,
Days have passed; you’ve no clue,
How much I longed for you.

The warmth of your
arms wrapped around me,
Those hazelnut eyes -
I could only see,
Soft hands intertwined
with mine,
I wouldn’t trade for
billions of dime.

You examine everywhere for reasons to fight
Goal you achieve almost every night
Perfection and purpose put out of reach
Are there other methods to help than preach?
You make known exactly the ways I've done wrong
Can't tell drive to satisfy you is strong
And success a maybe despite trying my best
Do you understand what it's like to be depressed?
Instead of pressure provide pearls of praise
Small portion of patience will go a long ways
What will you trip over next?
Disagreements leave me perplexed
Staring at me as if you're scrutinizing a stranger
Alarm blaring loudly though there is no danger
This life we live occupying to get old
Sighing when shoulder turns away from me cold
I climb expectations but can't quite reach the top
Longing for lighter limbs so I wouldn't tire and stop
Your unfulfilled wishes are all engraved in stone
Won't be pleased until words are carved into each bone
When experiences are good they are beyond great
Light a room with brightness you radiate
Sparks fly from skin's surface moment we touch
Stomach starts rolling the second hands clutch
Stuck to potential so vast at the start
Before bogging under the heaviness of my heart

To be a star,
you must burn.

To be a flower,
you must blossom.

To be art,
you must be created.

To be music,
you must be played.

To be a river,
you must flow.

But to be a lover,
you may not be loved.

I lit a white, waxy candle
I said I would start when the flame got brighter
And as I expected the light to grow taller
The wax only melted and got smaller