It's been a very long time since I missed two posts in a week, but I suppose I've broken the streak now. Of course, you know it wasn't intentional - this week has just been not so wonderful in terms of time and productivity and other, more personal, things.
Also, I must apologise, since I know a lot of you have sent me emails that are piling up right now. I promise I've read them - I just haven't gotten around to answering them, but I'll do my best over the weekend.
The poem for this week's Friday Poetry is quite a personal one; I haven't posted many of those lately, so this was certainly a refreshing change. I have noticed, though, that my personal poetry doesn't tend to be as polished as my fictional work - it's a lot more raw, which can be a good or a bad thing, depending on your interpretation.
I know I haven't been myself this week, but I'll take this weekend to recharge and think some things over, and hopefully on Monday it'll be a bit better. As always, comments, feedback, and thoughts on the poem are all welcome. The title is Ocean Song.
I’ve learned that life is a funny thing. it works in mysterious ways: ships sink slowly, water rises quickly. everyone is an artist nowadays: fill in the lines, colour in the blank spaces. blue paint runs down the page. sea foam blurs careful brushstrokes. I’m no masterpiece, but I’ve learned how to hold a pen, and I’ve learned that maybe that’s enough for now.
I’ve learned that for now is an important phrase, that tomorrow I will grow into someone brand new. I’ve learned to be okay with that. the universe does not care whether I’m happy, but sometimes I listen to the ocean singing in the shoreline’s ear: youarelovedyouarelovedyouareloved, on and on until the end of forever, and I hear the words to the ocean’s song and think perhaps the universe is leading by example.
I’ve learned that I am so much more than the numbers that try to define me. I’ve learned that words are the most important weapons I can hold, and I’m learning how to wield them with care. oceans and brushstrokes don’t make a poet, but they do make a person, and I’ve learned that maybe that’s enough for now.
I’ve learned that sometimes the ending isn’t a happy one, but I’ve also learned that sometimes it is. I’ve learned that backbones are more valuable than wishbones. I’ve learned how to say yes to myself. I’ve learned that my body is a shrine and if no one else worships it, then I must be my own goddess.
I’ve learned that life works in mysterious ways, that ships are sinking around me and it’s not easy to stay afloat. I’ve learned that perhaps the ocean isn’t singing only to the shoreline. I’ve learned that words can be anchors or deadweights, and I’m learning to tell the difference. I've learned that there is no end to the battles I can lose. and I’m learning that I am worth every one of them.