Words are a window

I used to write poetry when I was a teenager. I don't think I've looked back at my collection and read any of it in many trips around the sun. It was a great way to deal with all that teenage hormone-induced angst. My poetry has always been incredibly personal and very difficult for me to share. I imagine any creative person who puts so much of her/his innermost being into something that is quite subjective feels trepidation and nervousness when sharing. It's like opening a shutter on the window that faces out to the world, and seeing a crowd staring in at you.

For quite a few years I lacked inspiration to write, until recently. I feel fortunate that my studies include encouragement for creative expression. In fact, a recent assignment inspired the poem I am sharing with you today. Enjoy (or, you know, don't...but stop staring!).

Live

walking the path of growth
she struggles to see beyond herself
but recognizes that the world encompasses all

the flowers that bloom for the briefest of moments
teach her to breathe deeply
and pause
appreciating the offering of beauty and scent
before it withers and falls away

moments of learning
flash and fade

but she is forever changed
for having witnessed
smelled
and seen

the path is rife with obstacles
each different from the last
but all shaping the knowledge and body
of she who travels it
as patience is practiced

when once thought to be inconsequential
she looks back along her path
and witnesses the footprints sunk deep
enduring

realization that no other
will ever follow directly behind her
seeing, hearing, smelling all she does
but paths cross
footprints watched

every footstep brings her someplace new
as she carries her thoughts
knowledge
feelings
and wishes on her back

hopes and dreams surround her
embracing and caressing
shifting as the path of reality is revealed

the colors of her being
near-unrecognizable to
when she began her journey
shift yet
grow brighter
clearer
variant
subtle
brilliant.