From a prompt, a poem.





Wherever I am is called Here

Here I am, more or less ok.

I am MORE resilient than I give myself credit for.


Let me make a list of losses:


Babies

Dreams

Self

Brother

Grandparents

Mind

Compassion

Sense of humor


Please note, some of those were temporary.


And in losing, I gain.


More heart after the hurt, 


the anger,


the helplessness, 


the twisting of my gut in 


utter despair.


***


Now.


At t 5 feet 1 inch, I find myself standing taller.


MORE. 


More of who I am.


More of who I want to be.


Reclaiming my compassion,


my sense of humor,


my dreams.


I hate when I think 


I have lost myself. 


I hate when depression or life or 


a person triggers that


insidious evil little naysayer


who wants to inhabit the me,


the MORE me I aim to be.


***


I’m thinking now of Kelley,


of how his demons were no different, really.


Except.


Except he never caught a real break,


every day a constant battle to stay above ground,


a battle  he lost (and one we all will lose eventually).


But not in the way I expected. 


***


And isn’t that life?


Always wondering what we will gain or lose when 


we least expect it?


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