Me and a Poem

I'm a junkie. An education junkie. I take a ton of classes. So much so that I never really have time to finish all of them. For this very reason, I've cut back. Before I sign up for a class, I seriously weigh how much time I'll have free to devote to the content and just how committed I am to being fully present for the entire course. I've passed on a lot of classes as of late because I just don't have enough time.


Then, my dear Liz Lamoreux created a class I couldn't pass up: Create Space. It's different than many of the classes I take. It's not a scrapbooking class. It's not an art class. It's a soul class. In Liz's words, it's an "online experience that invites you to give yourself the gift of being present in this moment of your life. During this four-week course, you will slow down, take a deep breath with intention, and notice what you need. Through video and audio lessons, stories, writing and photography prompts, and weekly creative adventure assignments, we will explore self-care and being-present practices to use in your everyday life."


Over the last few years, I've morphed into a very angry, cranky and unhappy person. I can easily tell you how I got here, but I don't know how to get out of this murky place. So I continue my quest to rediscover the girl I once was; to let go of my anger; and to rediscover the joy that is in my life.

Yesterday, while journaling and meditating, I was prompted to write a poem (thanks also to Liz and her wonderful book). And I wanted to share it. Don't laugh. I've never written a poem and I've certainly never shared one publicly.

She screams.

Spinning, a fiery top, out of control.

She gasps.

Unable to breath. Smothered by the anger.

She melts.

Fear and sorrow oozing from her feverish abyss.

She hopes.

Palms raised, she reaches out

She believes.

Grasping for light, reverie bound.

She screams.