Whilst having a tidy up today, I found a box of writing-related bits and some poetry which I had forgotten about! It was like unearthing treasure, and I thought I would share it with you. It reminded me, how my writing serves as both a release valve, and a type of therapy for me in the darker times. These two poems are an example of how words can pinpoint those moments.
My lovely mother-in-law suffered with dementia, and sadly passed away in 2014. The first poem is born from this. The second, is when I was struggling mentally and felt alone. I hope through words, to connect with others, as we remember the power our words hold.
THE LADY I WAS
The reflection I own is unfamiliar.
The words I wish to speak, refuse to leave my mouth.
My world is spun on memories.
Eyes of concern wish to pull me from myself.
They seek me, deep within my shell.
Reassurance is beyond what I can offer them,
So I weep.
I weep for her- the lady that I was.
I'm still here...
But to them I left, long ago.
THE REAL ME
I am fading
Yet my outline is clear.
No one knows that I hurt,
Or that inside my head I fight battles.
Battles which I seldom win.
They don't know,
Because of my painted smile-
And false cheer.
Will I, the inner me,
Disappear one day, forever?
And if I do,
Will anyone even notice?
Or is my tidy, etched shell
What people really want to see?
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