#keepswimming - Hello Poetry

Poet’s Note: This poem is a reflection of my journey through the past two years — a time marked by loss, perseverance, and growth. Despite homelessness, grief, and countless obstacles, I refused to give up on my education or my family. As I prepare to graduate and turn 27, I carry every hardship as proof that resilience is real and that purpose can rise from pain. Almost There I started this climb in 2024, books heavy, heart heavier. The road to school was paved with loss, with nights I called “home” a place that barely held my name. I carried grief like notebooks my sister’s laughter folded between the pages, a baby I never got to hold still echoing in my ribs. And yet, I kept showing up. Even when the drive from North Carolina drained a tank and half my hope. That old truck was horrible on gas, but I drove it anyway because staying still wasn’t an option. Now I’ve got a car, and somehow, that small mercy feels like a hymn. No paycheck to catch me, no job to make ends meet just faith stitched to hunger, and a dream I refused to bury. My fiancé hurt, both of us breaking and binding in the same breath, fighting courts and odds to bring my nieces and nephew home, to keep our family from scattering like pages in the wind. Before all that, I fought just to get back here back to the chance to finish what life once paused. And now, two years later, I’m standing in the last stretch of a storm that almost took me whole. My son will turn four in January bright-eyed, proof that love grows even through concrete. And in May, I’ll walk that stage. A cap, a gown, and the weight of a thousand prayers. I’ll turn 27 right after older, wiser, carved by survival. No one knows how long these two years have been unless they’ve lived a lifetime inside them. But I did it. I’m almost there. And that almost is already a miracle.

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Oct 22, 2025

Oct 22, 2025 at 11:41 AM UTC

Trina

Almost There

Poet’s Note: This poem is a reflection of my journey through the past two years — a time marked by loss, perseverance, and growth. Despite homelessness, grief, and countless obstacles, I refused to give up on my education or my family. As I prepare to graduate and turn 27, I carry every hardship as proof that resilience is real and that purpose can rise from pain. Almost There I started this climb in 2024, books heavy, heart heavier. The road to school was paved with loss, with nights I called “home” a place that barely held my name. I carried grief like notebooks my sister’s laughter folded between the pages, a baby I never got to hold still echoing in my ribs. And yet, I kept showing up. Even when the drive from North Carolina drained a tank and half my hope. That old truck was horrible on gas, but I drove it anyway because staying still wasn’t an option. Now I’ve got a car, and somehow, that small mercy feels like a hymn. No paycheck to catch me, no job to make ends meet just faith stitched to hunger, and a dream I refused to bury. My fiancé hurt, both of us breaking and binding in the same breath, fighting courts and odds to bring my nieces and nephew home, to keep our family from scattering like pages in the wind. Before all that, I fought just to get back here back to the chance to finish what life once paused. And now, two years later, I’m standing in the last stretch of a storm that almost took me whole. My son will turn four in January bright-eyed, proof that love grows even through concrete. And in May, I’ll walk that stage. A cap, a gown, and the weight of a thousand prayers. I’ll turn 27 right after older, wiser, carved by survival. No one knows how long these two years have been unless they’ve lived a lifetime inside them. But I did it. I’m almost there. And that almost is already a miracle.

61

The road is long The mountain’s grade is steep and relentless Hairpin turns Collapsed Bridges Sheer cliffs to one side Wind at our backs; up and up we go Fog Nothing compares to fog Fog appears from nowhere It’s damp, slow, creep engulfs your sense of comfort Disoriented Confused Lost When will my fog pass; our mountain is beautiful; our journey an adventure Don’t let the fog take you from me But don’t let the fog corrupt If you choose left; I choose left The tip of the mountain cuts the thick, damp and moist blanket Press on; the winds have shifted; your gut pangs with direction Walk; don’t run I’m on your tail; guide us Our compass is oriented Fog’s merciless lingering Your wit cuts it like a knife One foot in front of the other Together we trod Together we tread

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Dec 3, 2018

Dec 3, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC

squigglynebula

Life’s Foggy Mountain

The road is long The mountain’s grade is steep and relentless Hairpin turns Collapsed Bridges Sheer cliffs to one side Wind at our backs; up and up we go Fog Nothing compares to fog Fog appears from nowhere It’s damp, slow, creep engulfs your sense of comfort Disoriented Confused Lost When will my fog pass; our mountain is beautiful; our journey an adventure Don’t let the fog take you from me But don’t let the fog corrupt If you choose left; I choose left The tip of the mountain cuts the thick, damp and moist blanket Press on; the winds have shifted; your gut pangs with direction Walk; don’t run I’m on your tail; guide us Our compass is oriented Fog’s merciless lingering Your wit cuts it like a knife One foot in front of the other Together we trod Together we tread

27

Breath in the trepidation Sit on the couch with your contemplation Light the cigarette Instantly swim in regret Inhale the poison that is killing you Exhale the stress that overwhelms you Get into an evil circle that you can’t escape Piece yourself back together with tape When you feel yourself fall apart Just replace the part By lighting another one Like your you’re holding a gun About to put it to your skull All you have to do is just pull But you don't do that yet Your hands are wet with sweat Something has you tied to this place Someone keeps ahold of you like a brace Keeps you from acting on impulse Keeps you from your red avulse Because no matter how far gone you become No matter how much you feel dumb Someone, somewhere will love you They will give you something new Something that gives you meaning Something that takes the sadness in a cleaning So you can wake up and smell the morning air Something that will make you care That something is life it gets rid of your strife Because we all have rough patches Like its the last of your matches But its gets better Like a sudden change in the weather So this is from me to you Even I may love all of you too

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Sep 1, 2017

Sep 1, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC

123456789123456789

Trepidtion

Breath in the trepidation Sit on the couch with your contemplation Light the cigarette Instantly swim in regret Inhale the poison that is killing you Exhale the stress that overwhelms you Get into an evil circle that you can’t escape Piece yourself back together with tape When you feel yourself fall apart Just replace the part By lighting another one Like your you’re holding a gun About to put it to your skull All you have to do is just pull But you don't do that yet Your hands are wet with sweat Something has you tied to this place Someone keeps ahold of you like a brace Keeps you from acting on impulse Keeps you from your red avulse Because no matter how far gone you become No matter how much you feel dumb Someone, somewhere will love you They will give you something new Something that gives you meaning Something that takes the sadness in a cleaning So you can wake up and smell the morning air Something that will make you care That something is life it gets rid of your strife Because we all have rough patches Like its the last of your matches But its gets better Like a sudden change in the weather So this is from me to you Even I may love all of you too

36