I washed my hands of remains of yesterday and looked toward the hills,
as the sun beats down upon my skin
the one that sends new leaves bursting from the blackened buds,
the one that tells how the mind is clear one moment
and clouded the next
I have rehearsed the art of gathering sense and pulling oneself together a million times.
Uncertainty is a rose unwilling to bloom, the kind that resolves to wither as time goes,
a whisper of breakage when you are unable to walk away,
a symphony of heartache in the blackness of night,
I hold onto knowledge, it’s blinding light
for what’s better to battle demons with when the stars align
uncertainty is when you are convinced that tofu salad isn’t half as succulent
as you thought it so.
Everyone has fears, everyone has doubts, each and every one of us is a warrior
fighting so that dreams one day can be fulfilled,
I mouth prayer into the abyss of unknown, lie within chaos and strive
to create comfort
I am not the type to embrace black humor,
instead I favour tasted hope that strings across the promenade
when days begin to feel like distant places
everyone is calm on the surface when in reality inward there is brewing a storm.
Nowadays minutes are melting into memories, not a day goes by
without longing to see your face
I am certain light will withstand darkness, so I fill the empty spaces of my poems
I am no stranger to forgotten mugs of coffee, plethora of orchids going dark
and crying in the bathroom,
again the heart is thrown into misadventure, again I rise and disregard
the fogged-up sky;
we can never entirely be sure of anything but we can opt to choose faith
how else do you expect to survive on this planet?
I washed my hands of remains of yesterday and looked toward the hills.
Photo credits: The Open Door by Sam Sidders, Pinterest
Posted for Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads
Posted for ‘Midweek Motif’ @ Poets United