I am restless.
I am a ticking bomb, waiting to collapse into myself.
There is so much of the waiting. The days stretch on
and I can feel the restlessness so deep within my bones
that at times I am afraid to move.
Afraid that I might dissolve into nothingness.
All this waiting, waiting for others lives to align
so that mine can begin.
You see, I was not made to wait. I was made to run,
and to have my knees deep in everything I want to
put my name on. I need to be one with the clouds,
touch the land, and meet all the people I can meet
in this lifetime because their stories are what I seek.
But I am here, waiting.
The truth is, I want to shake the very earth, and I want
them to hear my words. But I know I'm not saying the
right things. Not yet. Not like this. Not with the life
slowly ticking out of me while I wait.
YOU ARE READING
A Change Of Heart
PoetryHealing isn't the easiest thing for me to do. I've tried to find it in between pages and rib cages. In loud rooms and the quiet of racing heartbeats. In poetry and rage. In that space between childhood and growing pains. In apologies that I refuse t...
