This, by title is supposed to be prose. However, just as not all moments are made for songs, not all expressions are independent of the poem. No Rose plant is all blossom, petals soft, fragrant and vibrant. It hosts also thorns and leaves. The painful and the mundane. Perhaps today is, for me such a day, and in it, I needed a way out of the fog of ambiguous emotion. I write in these moments. so much is said about mental health in the public forum these days. Our mental health, emotional wellbeing, spiritual connection is just that, ours. But it is not necessarily private. Secrets, I have found, breed isolation. Do I think all the details of what put me here pertinent? No. details are for a trusted few. But the blanket feeling... my transparency may normalize your pain, and bring it into the light where it may be healed. And So, Ready to Bloom:
My emotions are not where I want them
I crave happy
but I sit between grief and sadness
feels a whole lot like depression
and a little like anxiety.
and frankly
I want it to stop.
but what happens if I sit here for a minute
lie as a body bowed to emotions longs to do
and just breathe in love
and out sorrow?
I let go.
Of things too long held.
weariness too long strong
exhausted nerves
that no longer wish
to work so hard at holding together
If You let go…
nothing
If I, in You let go…
all is still held together.
but I am not so heavy.
I am not weighed down.
Let’s go inside
shall we?
perhaps deeper
under the emotion
under the veneer of experience.
you and I together
and be.
who was I before it happened,
that which I now release.
I watch it fall to the ground and crumble
like leaves
off the tree
become soil under the pressure of snow
and out of them grow
new things.
it’s the new things I want to see.
but they won’t come
If I do not let go
O sorrow, sow joy.
I’m ready to bloom.