Poetry

Poem #3

I used to wake up in a rage as if the morning sun rays had been trying to tip toeing quietly, but accidentally knocked something over as they enter the room

I used to think I was grateful when I would feel overwhelmed at the thought of all the ways that the pieces come together to form my life

I used to look in the mirror and gesture to her as if I was not saying the same thing she had heard the day before

And yes, I used to mistake obsession with consistency, because if repetition does not represent commitment then what does?

Years passed as I walked around with hands full of splinters from habitually adjusting the chip on my shoulder

But it was hard to stay angry at the morning

And once the caffeine effect of affirmations waned, the reasons for my failed attempts crystalized

So I picked them up and sorted them into easily accessible bundles of knowledge and experience

These bundles now an anchor whenever I feel overwhelmed by all the moving parts that are my life