I am exhausted…

I am exhausted…

and it is ok

I am exhausted

and some days I cry

I am exhausted

because I put in an honest days work

I am exhausted

yet I don’t feel tired

I am exhausted

of perfection

I am exhausted

of social media illusion

I am exhausted

of trying to please

I am exhausted

for caring to much, and not enough

I am exhausted

for trying to answer the unanswerable

I am exhausted

of negativity and the lack of positivity

I am exhausted

of single gain societies

I am exhausted

of humanity forgetting we are all the same on the inside

I am exhausted

from the storm

I am exhausted

because one way is too much, and the other is not enough

I am exhausted

from raising kids to be polite, to appreciate a door held open for them, to accept help, to see people and not colours, to not judge, to accept, to be kind, to help others, to work hard to get what you want, to learn that life doesn’t hand you freebies, and that it is ok to be upset that change takes a while

I am exhausted

because I choose to be a women that loves when a man wants to help her, because I am a women that loves to help others, because I want to raise my kids to have the morals and values I grew up with, because I value putting the work in to gain the respect of others, because I want my kids to say thank you, and hello, and to offer help to those in needs.

I am exhausted

But you know what? The human I will be, and the people that will surround me, will be gracious, compassionate, giving, kind, accepting, and polite.

I am exhausted

And it is ok

Granny

Photo by Tatiana on Pexels.com
The sunlight poured through the window, warming each one of the floorboards its golden rays touched.  It was there that she sat, each and every day in that old wooden chair.  She would move it from its spot at the kitchen table, positioning it so that every part of her body could capture the suns warmth when she sat down.  The old chair creaked each time she shifted positions, but she didn't seem to mind.  Sometimes, I think she moved purposely just to hear the sound of something other than herself creak.  She always sat with her ankles crossed, and her hands resting gently in her lap.  Sometimes though, she would reach up and play with the pearls that always hung from her neck. She would start to coil the beads around her index finger, unraveling them, just to start again.  As she did this, her head would tilt back just enough to allow the sun to land upon every wrinkled crevice of her skin.  I used to think she was sleeping, because she would keep her eyes closed for such a long time.  Her eyelids would dance, as though she was chasing a dream, and a smile would crawl ever so slowly across her face, pausing before her lips were fully drawn.  When she opened her eyes again, they were usually glazed over with the beginning of a tear, but she never bothered to wipe it away.  Instead, she allowed it to dry in the sun, when it began its slow roll down her cheek. Even though her spot now sits empty, as soon as I see the sun spill its golden rays upon the floorboards, I move that old chair from its spot at the table and position it just so; thinking that one day, I might be able to capture the suns warmth like she had.  

Peeling Positive

Today I feel
so down I came, 
I tried to heal
but fell in shame.

Today I hurt
so up I knelt
I wiped the dirt
but still I felt

Today I stole
an ounce of sun
It took its toll
But I wasn't done

Today I stood
and gazed in pride
at how I could
If I just tried

Today I peeled
 my layers in back
and what was sealed
was no longer black

Light is there
If I only look
beneath to the despair
no longer the crook












Eternal Love

Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

This is a poem called ‘Walk Slowly‘ written by Adelaide Love, that holds a special place in my family.

Walk Slowly,

By Adelaide Love

 If you should go before me, 
dear, walk slowly down the ways of death, 
well-worn and wide, 
For I would want to overtake you quickly
 And seek the journey's 
ending by your side. 
I would be so forlorn not to decry you 
down some shining highroad when I came; 
Walk slowly, dear, 
and often look behind you,
 And pause to hear if someone calls your name.