I am in limbo.
I am in limbo. I am in poetic limbo. Poetry is a release for me. Poetry adds perspective to my life. I’m certainly no poetic genius, but it is something I enjoy. The best part about being able to express myself in this way is going back later and reading what was written. The raw feelings, hardcore agony, desperation, lightness, contentment, it runs the entire gamut of naked human emotion. To be able to reread and say, “I remember that. I remember feeling that way,” is the greatest preparation I know for the next time. I know what it felt like to be hopeless, and now I can reflect and know that I’m ok. I’m ok. Go figure. When one is in the midst of tragedy, pain or heartbreak, it’s next to impossible to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Then the morning comes, and the heartbroken stumble blindly, numbly through another day ‘til one day you awaken and the pain is less. Miracle of miracle’s one day it’s only a memory, no longer felt, in most cases. You know that it hurt, but it no longer holds onto you every step you take.
My poetic limbo….let me explain. I am very happy now. I am content with where I am going and who I’m becoming. Drama seems to be at a minimum now. Breathe. Just breathe. I don’t know what to write. I am a frozen artist. Hah! (I don’t really consider my poetry art.) I have moments of panic, because I know, I KNOW, that the world will fall apart and crumble to my feet any second. These moments are becoming fewer and farther between. What does this mean? Everything is okay. Can’t be. But it is. Today I am safe, but my past dictates that security be fleeting. I am not the same as I was then. I am finding security within myself, in my faith. Not those around me. Holy crap. I’m growing up. Now that’s a revelation to have sitting at your desk blabbering in print.
My birthday was yesterday. I am another year older, another year wiser. I have survived another a year. They keep piling on, and some are good, and some are bad, but most are both. No poetry there. If I have to experience the misery and anguish of heartbreak to find the poetry within me, then may I never write another poem.
“And the great awakening occurs
To know that you’ve given your heart away
Only for it to return bigger than life
Holding more love than the unbroken heart
Shall ever comprehend.”