Enoughness

I began this journey long ago,
Quite unsure, steps unsteady.
But now I see through different eyes,
A new lens that just wasn’t ready.
Eyes that have seen a thousand suns,
Beaches, hillsides, works of art.
Yet I see now a different view,
Than I would have at the start.
All alone with my voices,
What I’ve told myself is true.
Not always kind, I realize now.
Reality askew.
This tummy bore my miracle child,
Warmed with food I love to savor.
Some of life’s greatest pleasures,
As I’ve hung on every flavor.
Once something to be scrutinized,
These legs have walked the earth.
Wondrous lands both near and far,
For 40 years since my birth.
My toenails lost their polish,
But they’re tickled by the waves on the shore.
All around me paint is chipping,
But these walls hold something more.
Tattered blanket soft with wear,
Buttered velvet to the touch.
Coffee mug from the Village Dollar Store,
Nothing makes me smile as much.
College version coming out,
When they play my favorite song.
Dance like no one‘s watching,
Even if some think that’s wrong.
Karaoke too, it’s dreadful,
My voice barely more than a screech.
But mix adrenaline and laughter,
Heights of joy not easy to reach.
Imposter fear I realize now,
Was precious energy wasted.
And as I audaciously raise my hand,
Courage is finally tasted.
Sunflowers, once my perfume,
That cosmetics counter, 8th grade dance,
Now smile at me from every room,
I buy them whenever I’ve the chance.
I’ve always craved the energy,
Of a beaming, vibrant city,
But now I marvel at a falling leaf,
And think it’s just as pretty.
Hands in mittens, toes in socks,
Cozy mornings that are fleeting,
And with time I’ve realized,
As important as my meetings.
I am so thankful for all the pain,
Every tear I’ve cried.
For how without them would I know,
The beauty of the other side.
And the joy, of course, I’ve known that too,
And for that I’m eternally grateful.
But isn’t it funny that in a way,
They’re so enmeshed as to seem fateful.
You know them, right? Those trying times,
Struggling to escape their hold.
Now amber honey memories,
More precious indeed than gold.
Love of literature, sometime poet,
Too busy, though, to write.
Quiet days now with my family,
Fill pages into night.
My whole mood is enoughness,
Nothing missing from my world.
Little buds for 40 years,
As that seed of knowledge unfurled.

(Written as I approached my 40th…a birthday gift to myself…)