Life's ironic timing never ceases to amaze.
Or maybe that's my guides telling me
That this is the time to let go of the past -
A past that was never mine to hold.
Lives filled with war, violence, and poverty,
When my life was merely a thought
Has maintained it's hooks within me
Merely due to family-arity.
And as I sit on designated ground,
A space whose sole purpose is merely that -
A training ground for more lives to guide
In directions of peace during wartime.
Yet this space has a peace before the storm;
It holds souls who cherish mine,
Who encourage and comfort my soul
To grow into who needed to bloom.
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
