Let us ride the waves of misery but away, away from the blight, allow us to shine with the knowledge of that mystery, as we approach each other in the dead of night.
And let us have that embrace which has been awaiting us for oh so many years, let me feel that heartbeat of yours and detract from all my old fears.
Please let me wash away the hurt that I feel within my soul, let it rain, let it rain, and rinse away the suffering, let the pain fade away, delicately away, it shall dissipate, let it go.
And the proof is in the vision, the truth is in the See, the horizon is there to be admired, by us, by you, by me.
We have triumphed over that which causes us pain, let us relish the moments, the announcements, one and many the same.
I think to myself often, what has become of them? I wonder to myself, where is their part in my rose’s stem?
For the ability to have been supportive, to be there for me when I needed them most is, the proof is in the vision, my memories, they were there, perhaps as one in a million, they claimed to always care.
I mend and stitch and fail because that chasm need not fixing; it’s meant less darned, more gaping, it does not need my solving.
This situation is no longer my responsibility, I listen carefully, hark at the words, knowing that allowing myself to fall by the wayside, is the decision best for me.
It’s self-preservation, and protection of thoughts, and protection of that smarting feeling within my heart,
the sadness, I will rise above and smile despite, because, I was a part of something, and now, no matter that I’m not, I’m still intact, and that’s a fact.
The card tells me to focus on a desire for a more meaningful life, to realise it’s time to move on. Make those life-altering decisions and brighten my path, accompanied by the sweetest songs.
Hand in hand, will I be? Or strident on my own, wearing that purely metaphorical crown? Dangling with jewels of prosperity and wisdom, I will cherish this land, the land I explore as a future kingdom.
I will walk the path of righteousness, never allowing for feelings of umbrage or tales of my misfortune, I am learning from past mistakes, and those even of today, people aren’t necessarily who or what they promise.
And this is fine, it’s purposeful to know the truth that sometimes hopes and honour have decidedly flown the coop.
There is no longer any pressure, self-produced, to create nor feel, no rushing to the chopping block where I must reveal my innards, to show something real.
Instead, I can gently rest, not be concerned with the haste, my imposed rush, because it is time to take some time out for myself, I’ve been tired and don’t I know it.
Constantly dragging things, items up from me is like fishing in the darkness, I know what’s there, there are secrets lurking but I don’t know entirely where, when, or what I will find.
The funny thing is this is not even required of me – I’m the one pushing, to delve, so much so, that the word ‘I’ is irritating even me.
Changes could be made but I’m stuck, hindered by this not so fail-safe practice, it’s not tried and true, and it’s tiring, true? I need to step back and alter my practice.
Of course, confessionals have their place, I acknowledge a share has great potency, but not on and on and on and on and on, even I sometimes want to leave.
So, I’ll torment no further, or at least I will try, to avoid ailing with my pen, words stabbing in ears and eyes, and relax, step back, and just take a breath,
sometimes life is actually light-hearted, had I not thought about sharing and presenting that?
The crisp morning air enlivens my mood, there’s little need to be sulking, little need to brood.
For this wondrous day has been created for me, not temporarily, but permanently, from an off mood, I must up and flee.
Do not allow others to determine my state of mind, do not permit them to make me feel lesser than other members of humankind,
know that I am wise and smart and true, and I will feel elevated in this moment, my heart won’t be affected — I won’t allow it to.
Because the truth is, these people come and go, they flit in and out of one’s life, like bees would visiting where nectar grows, and the saddening moments will rise away into fluff, that’s more than enough, dearest, your silence is more than enough.
Truly, oh truly, did she see? The signs pointing, dazzling her blinded eyes to see? Could she not spot the clues, could she not hear the tales? Forging ahead, believing everything: my friends, that ship has sailed.
Braver and wiser has she become, more cynical and realistic, the measure of a person must be proven first, no more face value, blind trust, stupid naivety, gullibility, another’s private glee?
Feel the guilt wash upon them, her courage shall avail, her spirit is free.
Reopening the pages, aligning myself with the words, wondering if there’s time to experience a delicate tingle, an enlightening surge.
I may have cast aside the others within these pages for far too long, will they accept my return, can we rejoice, can we sing a jubilant welcoming song?
I don’t know whether or not the time will become important or determined, but I wonder to myself, will I send my words to them?
Will I dare share my thoughts and opinions, when perhaps they shouldn’t know of these, the time to absorb these has long been avoided, allow my words to be breath like a summer’s breeze.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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