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July 26, 2020

I’ve Been Asking for my End. {Poem}

Reflection has been thrust upon us with COVID-19, more so for some than others.

Reflection is a gift. It can swirl the muddy puddles collecting in our bodies and minds. The sticks and mud that otherwise goes undisturbed, distracted by the hustle of daily life, now float to the surface.

Below is a poem that I wrote reflecting on my journey over the past couple of years. Reassessing the things I longed for, the way I saw myself, and how I misjudged my own strength.

 

I’ve held my hands out, empty to the world

Asking for them to be filled.

Filled of riches, but riches in droplets

From perspiring ripened fruit.

I’ve walked around this world asking to be held

For the knight to come on his horse

For the gentle words to stick and mend

And not need to be repeated

For the embrace to be lived in.

I’ve walked around holding out my palms

Thinking that they’re empty

In search of a solid filling from

something exterior

Like the innards to baked pastries

I wanted the sweetness

The caramelised sweetness

That has simmered in its own taste for times

Longer than my upturned hands know

For sweetness to be handed over.

I’ve walked this earth as if

I am hollow, flaky pastry

Dropping parts of myself and not caring enough for the vessel that I am

To pick myself back up.

To place my hands on my crumbling edges.

My walls decayed as I trod

Hands out and facing skyward

Waiting to be filled with love

As sticky as maple syrup

Strength as sweet as boiled peaches

To be handed my worth with the complimentary tang of lemon.

I’ve been searching to fill myself up with

Ripened fruits, marmalades, and preserves

All that has been processed

Processed, poured over, boiled, simmered

Sweetened and ripened.

My hands outstretched, stretching for the work

To be done for me

Handed to me

A kit in a box, on the shelf

Step-by-step list

In my infancy, I’ve wished for my completion

Without wanting to dirty myself

With collecting, planting

Harvesting and pruning.

I held my hands out thinking

that they were empty

I’ve been asking to be shot forward without seeing that I was asking for my end.

To be shot forward to completion

To being filled, worked out, perfectly prepared

Now I take my hands and I ask them for forgiveness

For holding everything but myself.

For harvesting all that was not mine.

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Loralee Jade  |  Contribution: 2,505

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