like the trees it is time for me to let go of the child broken, haunted by old ghosts lingering poison
to wake up get over myself dance naked in the breeze less green but open-hearted wild, brilliant joy
to heal the trees will show me the way home their secret all must die a bit each day to live…let go…breathe
I have grown quite sick of myself…the wallowing in past wrongs, unresolved issues, the self-loathing practice of sabotaging myself time and again because…what if? I’m sorry, if you know me well, for dragging you along with me through the muck. Enough already. Maybe it’s the tug of the looming new moon, but I’m over being a victim. This moment, right here, right now I am determined to be a tree. The dead leaves I’ve clung to for so long serve me no purpose but to stifle me from fully embracing the coming spring. New beginnings happen every season. But you have to let go to taste them!
stop trying to please and take some time for you to smell spring’s sweetness in the moments after the rain roses misted, dressed in red
NaPoWriMo2022 -Day 6 Prompt: write a variation of an acrostic poem. But rather than spelling out a word with the first letters of each line, I’d like you to write a poem that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line.
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