“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” – George Elliot

Part I (before)

I want to be what I am not,
Yet I tie myself tight to what I am.
I’m sunk so deep in my own displeasure,
Yet I refuse to reach for the rope.
I dream of the day when I’ll snuggle up to the sun,
Yet I shut the blinds each morning he invites me to rise.
I’m trapped on this solitary island,
Yet I hide each time a boat reaches the shore.

I want to be what I am not, I wish to be what I can be, I long to be what I once was,
Yet I seem not to believe I can.

Part II (after)

I cried myself to sleep so many nights, crushed by the weight of my own powerlessness.
I wanted to be what I was not, yet I convinced myself I was beyond my own reach.
Adrift on a black sea of fears,
Baffled and lost behind the horizon of thoughts,
I was disrupted by a disquieting billow.
Trapped for what seemed an eternity
I surrendered to the stillness and closed my eyes, expectant.
An instant on, I was pushing the sand away; rising to my feet I ran to the shore.
Feeble and frail, yet wakeful and alert, I fell to my knees and stared at my shadow.
I turned my back on the dark silhouette
And contented I embraced It.
It was ardent and intense in its ascent,
So gracious and responsive to my acceptance…
The restless sea below it was seething with rage,
Yet I was oblivious to its gloom and dejection.
The sun I yesterday snubbed out of a lack of faith,
Is today lightening my horizon. It caresses my figure,
Warms my being and nourishes my hopes.
I now look around me and I see life.
I listen to a purling stream and I hear joy.
I smell the sweet blossom of cherry trees and I think delight.
I touch the dew coating the meadow and I feel buoyancy.
I glance towards the sky and I recognize myself.
I am free to believe that I can be what I want to be.
Now… I just want to be myself.

July 13, 2010


© Ana Horga, 2013.


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