There is a house in Newport Green
They call it the sturdy one
It withstood all kinds of stormy weather
Ever since time had begun

If you're wondering why it's still there
Even though it moans and groans
Never mind smart wood construction
It lasted thanks to good bones

People who had pet rocks are successful today because they understand the worth of a rock. Rocks are sturdy and hard, they don’t move unless moved, and are always there no matter the situation.
I always wanted a rock. Someone who would always be there for me when the world was crumbling down. Someone who didn’t leave me high and dry. Someone who I could count on in my worst moments.
I thought I had a rock once, but they left me when everything started falling apart. I wanted to be their rock, but they left me while I was trying to be sturdy.
Rocks are what holds us together. If you find yourself one, stay strong and hold on to them. Rocks are not meant to be kicked around or thrown, they're meant to be held down and loved.

I come from a place of empathy
where perceptions
is a mix of colors
of hers, his and their
perspective.

I come from a place of empathy
where ears are made of patience,
drums sensitive to the change in wavelength,
de-weaving complexity
into simplicity.

I come from a place of empathy
where the emotions lacerating
hearts – sliced,
run parallel through me.

You lock into my embrace,
finding the comfort of compassion
amongst the rusty and scraping conditions.
  
When you project anger, fear, and angst
I start dissecting your past,
your rearing,
justifying and understanding
the origins of the
hand and experiences
that shaped you.

You render your mind open,
as I step in
walk among the stars, darkness
and the turbulent waves crashing within.

Your emotions tingle my skin,
and linger within me
as I understand wor(l)d apart,
developing cross-cultural understanding
and objectifying subjectivity.

Though I begin to understand
the origins, stem of your being,
swaying with your words
and hazing in the paradox of other’s being.
I choose to succumb to gravity,
and remain sturdy on certain beliefs.

Everyone who met her always
Portrait her image as a
Sturdy one in their heart. But,
In real everyday she is trying
Hard to fix the pieces of
Her broken soul in one.

Even weeds bear beautiful blooms,
New and exciting, in colorful hues,
But the roots of an oak tree will withstand a tempest,
And each passing season,
Greater pleases the senses.

I stood
on the stone
of sturdiness
only
to find myself
far away from
stability
and simply
balancing