For years, I did my work.
I pounded, weeped, created,
Frustrated, cried out and held in.
I pressed into shadows that
Alternately enticed me and scared me
Then, I grieved.
At first, I thought it was only for the people,
That had meant so much to me.
But these were not the core
Of my grief.
My grief was over those parts of me that I
Held as so valuable over the years:
Those aspects and interjects
That seemed to rule my life
Without choice or consciousness
About their coming vicissitude.
Yes, it's true, at some point
They were my protectors,
Defenders and sometimes even
But they did not hold real sway
In my life.
In fact, they were precisely what
Kept me from swaying
The way a ship does when the
Water first starts to get choppy;
Barely perceptible on the deck,
But life-changing for those in
A sway that comes like a lullaby
And a calling;
That rocks me
Like the creatures and stories of myth,
I rise from old shadows to new shadows:
This time, some of my shadows are
Made of light.
They dance, either behind me like
Shadows of Old,
But more often in front of me.
Like a door opening before me,
Invite me to
In ways that I had only imagined
~ Created by Stan Stewart
~ Copyright © 2013, 2019 by Stan Stewart and muz4now, inc. All rights reserved.