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?