I will bend to please, for I put first others’ needs; overempathy makes me weak.
Forceful winds, whether intended or not, push with invisible pressure until my insides knot.
In opposite direction of secret desires, the flight I am put on with unpurchased ticket takes me higher
but farther on false wings to where I wished to be; nonetheless, I relentlessly look for the positives in my surroundings.
Rock, boulder, my anchor, my center, is never stationary. I move the mountains with the strength of your arms and my unshakable faith in the Almighty.
Bent tree. Flight path. Criss-crossing trajectories. I will bend back. I will disembark. And wherever that leaves me, I will find where the wildflowers are. And if you pluck them all, I will water the seeds in my heart.
I will persevere as me, no matter how many rounds I smartly, politely, or wearily concede. Each of those fertilize bloom potentiality.
I will grow my own wildflower fields until they rise out of me.
Barefoot atop the deep waters, white dress and wild tresses flowing, sunken-ship cemetery of the past beneath, I twirl in this present moment.
The sea is mine as my dance floor, and I skim across to my pick of shores; I explore, I vacation, not searching, just jubilation of losing worries and fears, exaltation of the lightness of the lifting of those stormy years, each moment an eternity to get to the next, each stepping stone sinking with each vine grasped, no beanstalk discovered to bring me to the clouds, only faith each day for decades of a better tomorrow.
That tomorrow is today,
hence the head-raised dance in the sun and in the rain, embracing with wide-opened arms the achievement of having started upon this horizon I only viewed from the beach.
The stepping stones still sink. I just realized the only missing factor was to fully
They were never needed. Self-love was the only key.
I was always worth it. Eventually, I fought for me and this dream.