My Heart

Some days my feet are light
And I dance as if on air
Other days they’re heavy
As I trudge a path of despair

While in my lows, I wallow
Yet my highs can touch the stars
But whether in joy or sadness
My heart is wherever you are

A short poem ~ by Meg Sorick

Just a note; this is hyperbole, lest you all think I’m suffering from bipolar disorder.

Reflection

Rummaging through artifacts
A collection of regrets
Reminders of time wasted
And chances lost
Sift out the memories
And donate them to charity
Could anyone be happy
With these castoffs?

“Surely,” you say,
“It hasn’t been all bad…”
But I never see the bright side
Only the might have
And the what if?
And I’ll go to my grave
Wishing I’d done it all differently

(The header image is one of my own paintings; an abstract I’m calling Reflection)

Cleaning and purging always feels liberating to me. Nevertheless, clearing out things I’ve collected over the years always reminds me of different paths I could have taken, different choices I should have made. And I will never, ever be one of those people who says, “Yes, but all those choices make you the person you are today.” While that is true, it also assumes that I am happy with who I am and where I ended up. I would take a do-over every single time. No question.

One Tree

One lonesome tree

Gives such welcome shade to me

One lonesome girl with grass stained knees

With her book, finds quiet and peace

Still working on the next section of Small Cuts. Sorry for the delay! Hopefully I will have it for next Friday.