Beautiful Mess
I toss and turn,
Counting my heart beats,
Not knowing
If I should be grateful
Or not.
Most nights are tougher than the others,
Thoughts tumbling like an angry river,
Churning, whirling
Inside my mind.
What a beautiful mess!
Sometimes overwhelming,
Sometimes organized chaos.
"Breathe!"
I told myself.
"Acknowledge the beautiful mess that you are."
Survivors like me,
We became our own heroes,
Not waiting, nor expecting,
For anyone to save us
From our nightmares,
Except for the Divine maybe.
Pain becomes our reality,
Each day of surviving-
A Personal Victory!
No medals, no recognitions,
No pats on the back,
No one to cheer us on.
I am a beautiful mess,
Surviving is what I do best.
~Estelle~
07102021
0414H
Comment
"The poem and the quote are perfect tandem. Yes, we write our stories for our own good, not for others to snarl at us, nor condemn us... It's just sheer luck, a tough luck, that we put it online sadly to be subjected to the reader's interpretation - most of whom are biased." ~Leah C. Dancel
