self-acceptance – Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Prose: The Path of Self-Acceptance – 19/09/20

I lay my head softly to rest. It is morning, but I have been awake since eleven in the eve. I don’t toss and turn like some do when their mind is at unease, but I feel the dismay within. Or it may in fact be vehement, it may be sorrow, it may be “How did I find myself in this circumstance?”, my life begs of me, tells me there’s other ways to go, and I wish I were strong enough right now to explore those paths, to find a different way for myself.

Change appears to be imminent, to be calling for me, it is ripe like the wind bustling against furry spring peaches weighing down boughs, decorated by leaves, and I can almost smell their fresh scent beckoning me forth, tantalising, making me reach for the tree to pluck, pluck, pluck, to my heart’s content indeed.

As I shut my eyes gently, I imagine different circumstances and outcomes that would come from different decisions. Would I be happier, feel different, be led to a path anew? Or am I already on this path and don’t even know it, the path of self-discovery and finally, finally, renewed trust in myself and self-acceptance?

It has been years since I have wholly trusted myself and my judgement, and now it feels right, the air pregnant with expectation that I should take my reliance on myself back into my hands once more. I am stronger than I have allowed myself to be, I have allowed myself to wilt and have this lack of strength be believed. I am so much stronger than I have allowed myself to be.

In order to raise the valiant part of myself once more, I need to listen to my heart, hear what it tells me, and then in the silence, listen harder, some more. It is all a method of growing, and unlike those ripe peaches which were allowed to flourish and exist, I had permitted the death of my growth, but now, now, I must live! Stagnant had I become, but alive, now I must be, this process must become.

I will allow myself to breathe, and flow, and grow. In the mirror, I will smile during the process, carefully watching myself.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

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September 19, 2020

Poem: A Gentle Reminder – 16/04/20

Bulging eyes like those of a mute man’s persuasion,
an idiomatic world wreaking destruction
with its occupants not any worse or well off than the land they stand upon,
Ingot! Ingot!
Who told me you’re the one?
 
I never put on the shield of makeup without
first assessing the importance,
painting, changing,
it’s all required,
the heart is still at large.
 
The loathing,
self-loathing,
more insignificant
yet still there as a slight,
it stings,
its pain it will seemingly never repair.
 
And there is the sharp spike,
a prick in my heart
the poison,
fuel injection,
electric explosion,
my eyes they take in all
that swimmingly the pain receptors cannot.

A gelatinous feeling now overwhelms my flesh,
the unformed nature jiggles and sighs,
the athleticism is gone from those
once fit, toned calves and thighs,
my muscles ache almost as much as my heart,
of the present they quietly speak.

A butterfly comes to visit the tip of my nose
and suddenly in a flash 
I’m reminded to exist in the present,
to create my own formulation of self-acceptance and hope,
and nothing less or more in between,
nothing else withstanding.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by David Englund from Pixabay 
Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

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April 16, 2020

Poetry: Stability – 17/02/20

I once had a metaphorical finger waggled in front of my face: “I know what you want.”
“Stability,” I blurted out.
I needed to feel settled, I needed to feel wanted, I needed to feel, well, loved. I had been on a trek through life trying to find the right one – is there even such a thing for me? I’d occasionally wonder.
But the truth of the matter is, I was yearning, desperately hoping that the one who asked me was the right one. It was not meant to be. Details are frivolous, yet the feelings behind them are not.
I knew that I needed to firstly love myself, but how could I be expected to do so when every part of me screamed that I wasn’t good enough? I had my head in the clouds, peeking through to the sun, and still, the damage to my eyes in the glare was done.
I was imperfectly perfect, as well are, as we all are designed to be. Nothing personal, but we can counter ourselves in the wind or the air, or upon the land, or in fire, or within the sea, all we need is a slight understanding of the word ‘Me’, and what it encompasses.
It speaks of everything that we are, within two simple letters, capitalised, not, Meeeee, I can yawn the vowels out wide, like a yowling cat, a mama I’m still to find.
My search would continue on, the search for myself swept to the side, and in every new face I met, there was a lack of recognition, a mirroring that wasn’t present in the eyes before me in which I was searching.
Maybe one day, this stability would come. Maybe the next day, or the day after that, my desire would come to fruition, and become whole and known.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Andreas Breitling from Pixabay

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February 17, 2020

Poem: Anything But Ordinary – 30/12/19

 Allow me to throw all this 
 seriousness out the window,
 watch it rise, then drop, go, 
 weighted, begone!
 It’s as though an exhilarating breath 
 has been taken inside of you
 Inhale, exhale, you crave another round.
  
 Where life could be so simple, 
 so pure, so you,
 one of perfection, a life of independence,
 where in this life, of your reality,
 everything is light, feathery, and airy. 
  
 Your words move softly from your lips,
 your fingertips dance over naked skin,
 and touching your arm makes the 
 hairs on your neck raise,
 you don’t need another here, 
 to feel grateful and amazed.
  
 Because you are perfection, dear, 
 even with your self-labelled flaws,
 they’re your signs that you are unique,
 be careful with your heart,

 do not denigrate yourself,
 talk down internally 
 because you, sweetheart, 
 are anything but ordinary.
 
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved, 2019.  

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

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December 30, 2019

Motivational Verse: Growth

A little bit of motivation for the morning…

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My New Book – Our Whimsical World

October 31, 2019

Poem: A Mirror of Blossoming Colours – 05/10/19

 Stardust, starlight and blossom so bright,
 A mention of colours I see tonight
 Be they bold, subdued, or delicate, or brutal,
 I see them;
 Internally, I can feel them. 
  
 It is as though each colour has an emotion, 
 I assign a meaning to each shade, each hue,
 Only I absorb their meanings, 
 I can hear them,
 Can they feel my appreciation, too? 
  
 Like a beautiful tropical bloom in my sight,
 The combinations become heightened 
 As my emotions grow in power,
 There is nothing beyond my colours, 
 but an ephemeral fog which will last and obscure us 
 for a little while longer. 
  
 But the shades, oh, the shades, 
 How they make me feel such tender turmoil,
 Their assigned meanings remind me of
 The yearning years
 Where I was delicate and life was anything but simple.
  
 Where I ached for someone to truly notice my colours
 The uniqueness that my vibrancy displayed,
 How I wasted many years chasing other shades
 Not suited to me,
 Monochromatic in shade. 
  
 I thought they were right,
 I thought they would complement me,
 But my hues were too flamboyant and different,
 I wasn’t accepted -
 Always viewed as something other than wanted
 Usually indifferently, 
 An undesirable, unpopular oddity. 
  
 But now I can bloom with brilliance
 Just like this summoned flower before me
 In fact, it is as though it is my mirror
 Reflecting myself back at me.
  
 I no longer need to hide away,
 I can blossom and shine without doubt
 Without feeling afraid,
 The absence of approval is easy enough to do without,
 And my true self I do not need to disguise or hide away.

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October 5, 2019

Poem: Crashing Waves – 03/10/19

 The waves hurl themselves onto the rocky shore
 As though on a suicide mission
 I wonder what it would be like to feel those jagged edges biting me
 Protruding through the breaking waves
 Their strangled sounds strangely comfort me.
  
 I dare to reach forth
 One step at a time
 A momentous awakening has come about this healing time.
  
 And like how I come to the sand for serenity and to show respect,
 myself, I blossom inside
 feeling and breathing good health.

 the racing thoughts in my mind
 the strange understandings still in place
 will eventually be wiped away
 replaced with thoughts more socially acceptable and commonplace.
  
 But I will not lose my vigour nor my ardour 
 Learning more of discovery, healing and self-respect
 The waves continue to crash
 My eyes divert from the scene as they capture human movement
 Ah, there he is: 
 I almost thought he wouldn’t make it.