PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Some years ago, my soul

revealed itself to me, and

the soul I found was far

beyond the definitions and

theology I had been taught.

Forsaking others, I set out

to be the free spirit

I was meant to be.



I have been to the bottom of the top

and to the top of the bottom,

though I have never reached either.

I have hidden beneath the

covers of pride, and have stood

before an audience of peers,

who cheered my rebellion.



And now, entering into a new phase

of life, I remember not so much

my sacrifices and accomplishments,

but the laughter of an innocent

little girl, who climbed to the

top of a live oak tree

just to prove she could; and

the pinched smile of her father

as he scolded her.



I have loved, lost, loved, and

lost again. I'm okay with that.

I am weary, no longer in

competition with myself and

my pride.



Seasons of life become

a concatenation, and that is

somehow comforting.

There is always sunshine after

a storm, and the birds always

return to their song; and

I know that, even as I enter

these unfamiliar grounds,

I will never fold my wings, for

they have served me well.



The rest of my life beckons.

My lighthouse is the remembrance

of where I have already been.