When I started to feel lightness and had a sense of finding my way through the sorrow, I thought, "Okay, I'm doing it. I've gone from there to here and that's done." The linear mind again kicking in. But grieving is not a straight path, as I've said. Once I began to understand that I was able to hmmmm.... well, to start to be more at ease in the process, I guess. This next poem is one of several that was my way of expressing that.
Uneasy Peaks
From a valley of despair I have journeyed.
Emerging emotions, torrential tears, whitewater words
pouring from a well of deep inner turmoil
have been the impetus, the vehicle of my movement.
Traveling on a path that has at times been
a gentle slope with obstacles to be faced,
but more often so steep that I am breathless,
not sure that I can keep moving,
yet I do.
Some days I walk along a precipice that
tenses my body and makes my spirit so weary.
Other days I have a spring in my step and
take time to drink in the view,
feel the breezes of contentment and peace,
hear the gentle whispers of encouragement and hope.
I have fallen many times,
fallen so hard that old hurts return to haunt
a newly evolving me.
Fallen so hard that the buzzing bug
that pesters my brain becomes loud and annoying.
The bug of doubt, of worry, of fear.
But each time I have picked myself up,
acknowledged the pain for what it is,
and moved forward.
I have reached beautiful peaks,
where I feel aware, and solid, and sure,
where I discover things in myself that I
never knew were there,
where I just feel right.
Yet those peaks make me uneasy,
make me think I should turn back -
back to what was because, although it was dark,
it was at least familiar.
But I don’t.
I only slide a bit and find ways
to brush the bug away,
then strive for another peak.
For I now understand
that those uneasy peaks are part of a fresh horizon,
that my uneasiness dissolves into learnings about me,
that my inner boundaries have changed.
I have wandered far and wondered deeply,
and soon I will settle into
the me that is right.
A me that is at ease reaching for new heights
and comfortable when I get there.
From a valley of despair I have journeyed.
Emerging emotions, torrential tears, whitewater words
pouring from a well of deep inner turmoil
have been the impetus, the vehicle of my movement.
Traveling on a path that has at times been
a gentle slope with obstacles to be faced,
but more often so steep that I am breathless,
not sure that I can keep moving,
yet I do.
Some days I walk along a precipice that
tenses my body and makes my spirit so weary.
Other days I have a spring in my step and
take time to drink in the view,
feel the breezes of contentment and peace,
hear the gentle whispers of encouragement and hope.
I have fallen many times,
fallen so hard that old hurts return to haunt
a newly evolving me.
Fallen so hard that the buzzing bug
that pesters my brain becomes loud and annoying.
The bug of doubt, of worry, of fear.
But each time I have picked myself up,
acknowledged the pain for what it is,
and moved forward.
I have reached beautiful peaks,
where I feel aware, and solid, and sure,
where I discover things in myself that I
never knew were there,
where I just feel right.
Yet those peaks make me uneasy,
make me think I should turn back -
back to what was because, although it was dark,
it was at least familiar.
But I don’t.
I only slide a bit and find ways
to brush the bug away,
then strive for another peak.
For I now understand
that those uneasy peaks are part of a fresh horizon,
that my uneasiness dissolves into learnings about me,
that my inner boundaries have changed.
I have wandered far and wondered deeply,
and soon I will settle into
the me that is right.
A me that is at ease reaching for new heights
and comfortable when I get there.
Sarah Carlson
January 5, 2007
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