On this path of awakening, sometimes sadness overwhelms me. Today, I spent mostly in bed, sleeping away the misery. I have stagnated, all energies no longer move forth, I snipe, I want to be heard, but in complaining, my head is then bitten off, my thoughts fail to unwind.
I don’t need solutions, I need to be listened to, and that realisation needed to be attended to. But then words like a drill sergeant were barked in my ear; I wanted to retreat, sleep further, have the cruel tone nowhere near.
I am rarely like this. So when I am, I want to be allowed to wallow, be morose, as some might put it. The answer is this: just listen, do not yell nor hiss, I don’t need raised voices, what I need is kindness.
Eventually it arrived. I thanked them for this.
(c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved. Photo by darksouls1 from Pixabay.
it feels like gold it shines it glimmers it never grows old these times that grow within my soul cause me to smile widely from ear to ear.
lips plumped and pouted I contemplate what has come to pass with extraneous time for these golden dreams cause such brightness and internal strength tenacity helped me make it through the disastrous zones the struggles the moans the whines the aching the pining and now here I am grinning giggling for I’ve achieved what I sought and though it took certain time I have arrived… finally.
It would be wise, it would be prudent, to give up the nuisances, to cast away the cruel injustice, and travel elsewhere, where they know us. For now, my words bear less ‘zing’, overworked, overwrought, haphazard it is to over-sing, it seems. I can speak of experiences; growth, positivity, liveliness, but without a visible, solid base, how will my truths be known? How can they direct, morals and lessons intersect, when no one is here to witness what’s been asserted, what has been said?
Trust me; I walked on the other side of life, what you see now, pretty petunias and roses, barren land before, they would never grow. Despair, anger, frustration, hatred, they were the currencies of life in which I coped, how I stagnated, the manners of living I breathed and for a long time, I remained without hope.
No point detailing any further, little point into going into specifics, this is enough to know that I’ve made some great changes. These things never happen overnight – indeed, it’s like watching a hatchling every day, if there’s a break between each stage, it’s obvious to one’s eyes the vast developmental change.
I sing a certain song now, I warble newer tunes, I’m much happier, I feel this in my being, to the full. Of course, occasionally, I yearn for some things, but Life’s not perfect, and distractions keep the mind busy. The scent of those luscious flowers, why, one might say, my life is pushing roses, so much more joy must be on its way.
Bouncing back to clarity, what’s right and honest for me, unselfishly considering myself, what works for my life, not putting myself behind others, not lingering in potential or future strife.
To feel connectedness to others, the warmth of electric energy, be careful of some connections, electrifying can become dangerous indeed.
Set some boundaries, don’t allow any to overstep the line, it’s what I am comfortable with, can’t allow anxiety to grow with time.
Don’t allow others to meld, view situations for what they are, transparency is important to maintain, even from afar.
And knowing, being aware of the next step there is to take, perhaps there will be loss, maybe it’s required for Heaven’s sake,
perhaps the road here has come to an end, now for a detour, only so many times words can be retracted or unmeant.
On the proviso of keen awareness, some can promise the world. Vivid, glorious, blossoming flowers, and pretty passions laid in a row. Everything given has a reason, or so it seems, amazing these moments are, they’re encouraging, they certainly please. And here presents confusion of the times, wait, the headiness of scented fruits scattered all around takes a free-for-all, but they are sublime. This situation seems profoundly positive, satisfying and amazing, soar with the scents, ride upon spread white dove’s wings, heaven sent. And by the sea we will then find ourselves, the salt air tingling as I dart out my tongue from my mouth. Run to the water, rush to the foam, mermaids are beckoning, mermen are calling you home…
Gentle flower petal, how beautifully you twirl, within the lake amidst my reflection that stares back, showing something that’s strangely unlike me, not precisely the same, but still heart strings are tugged, emotions swirl.
Pink petal, pink petal, how fragrant you must have been before you were immersed in this seemingly picture-perfect scene.
And within this not-so-mirror image which stares and stares right back, I wonder to myself, what is lacking? And when will it come back to my hands?
Perfect petal, you swim as though you’re gently treading water, peacefully bobbing above the waterline, no flow to drag you under.
And as you enter my reflection how you feel immersed in the warmth that engulfs you, so precious in this land you are.
You’re in uncharted territory, you’re unknowing of the world in which you’re floating, even I cannot fathom my true reflection because I do not know every turn, every nook and cranny’s exploration.
But petals can get lost down these winding paths, there’s blockages, scar tissue in the grooves from life’s aftermath
but gently, Petal, you will float, over and away, only to return to explore again another day.
An angel smiles down upon me. I know she’s the one who’s been sending me those floaty, tiny, white feathers. A message from the heavens, reassuring me, her way of telling me that we are all being looked after. Often, I have been seeing them, floating into my sight out of nowhere; they make me smile, and I wonder, I wonder, I did wonder who was behind them.
Research is an amazing thing. I discover so much possible meanings behind her blessings and the messages she is sending me are special, and unique, and true. She is protecting myself and my loved ones, this unnamed, unseen angel, hidden from view.
I was never sure about the existence of supernatural beings. It’s been difficult after growing up believing in the concrete and stubbornly only accepting what I could see. But can certain forces be at work here? Something to remind me to open my eyes further to see what I have not seen until now in the universe? That there’s something truly out there that is beyond my ability to currently see? Her feathers reassure me.
I was told: no one wants to hear about your problems. No one is interested in them. They’re not problems, I wanted to explain, they’re reflections, ruminations, story-telling. Is anyone bothered by the tales I share? I’m sharing hoping for relatablity. For the ability to connect, to cause a feeling, or emotion, within the person who’s reading.
I don’t mean to perturb, though sometimes my shares will shock. That’s not my main intent. I am concerned by their statements. Because, if it is true that people don’t want to read, why do I have readers return to read my words, the numbers may have fallen but of my release, I am still hanging on.
I am grateful for each single word you read, which you digest. If you can’t make it all the way through, I understand, some topics may not be for you. But I appreciate that you are here as part of a type of therapy, the sharing allows an offloading feeling, the heaviness of a topic shared between others lightens the load.
I’m not a woman constantly filled with turmoil, a walking accident, a travelling mistake. I suffer and thrive from many things that you do, too. We could be one and the same, for all I know.
We may not be so different after all. Thank you for your comments and encouragement on my posts, also. They really do mean a lot, and make me feel as though I’m on the right path with my writing.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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