"Grieving Myself"
How often does one grieve themselves
in a lifetime?
Their past mistakes,
their present weight,
the future that never came?
How many could'ves, should'ves, would'ves
does it take
before you can't even stand
to be yourself anymore?
Me?
I've been grieving myself a lot lately.
Dying to a lot of self,
crying a lot -
more than I admit.
There's this shovel in my hand.
It's heavy.
And a body in the grave -
weary.
It's mine.
Lately,
I've been learning about responsibilities -
you know,
those things you don't want to do
but have to anyway?
I've been learning to die to self.
(It hurts.)
I'm grieving that confident girl.
The happy one.
The girl with the made-up bed,
the clean room,
the open window
and lighter air.
I'm grieving the poetry lover -
that lover-of-life
kind of girl.
But even with a shovel in my hand,
even with my body in the ground,
somehow,
there's this quiet understanding:
Maybe I'm burying the old girl
so a new one can rise.
So,
with a heavy heart
and tears in my eyes,
I bury myself.
And maybe that's the thing -
I have to die
so the One who made me
can live through me.
But still,
I cry.
Because who doesn't,
when you lose
parts of yourself? ❤️🩹
-Wendy-
YOU ARE READING
From The Inside
PoetryA collection of a few, simple poems that i started writing a few years ago and some recent ones as well. "From The Inside ," is about my life stories and experiences in poetry form and what takes places inside my heart and mind.
