When the ****
hits the fan,
the things I want to hear
and the things I need to hear
are rarely the same thing.
It’s usually the hard truth
that I remember most
in the wee hours,
when anxiety swirls
around my head
When the time finally comes
to exit the whirlpool
the words that my heart
knows are true,
are the words
that fuel the change.
Like the song I was singing with soul, for years before I lived it, before I had the experience for it to really make sense. Like my mother’s wisdom that I didn’t want to hear, but it rang in my ears after the outcome of my foolishness is fulfilled. Will I always learn the hard way?
