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Poetry is often like bleeding words, or painting therapeutic pictures of moments in time. Thoughts and emotions are purged into art.

Whirlpool

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It’s sweet of you
To ask how I feel,
But I don’t think you
Really want to know.
This weight isn’t yours.
You probably have
Enough heavy
Of your own.

Or maybe you walk light,
Like I used to,
Though I’ve always
Gone deeper than most.
You don’t need this.
Keep your stride free,
Dance in the aisles.
Smile. Keep Spirit alive.

I isolate myself.
It’s safer that way.
Withdraw with this
Fear that dogs me,
This dread of internalizing
Every swing of mood
And stubborn resistance
I have to face.

Terrifying,
Confronting myself,
This out-of-control,
Inescapable commitment.
But it isn’t yours,
And I don’t wish
To burden you
With my struggle.

Yes, I do see
The beauty, the joy:
Rainbow glittering snow,
Majestic eagle atop tree,
Water with its crust of ice
Upon which I've walked,
Blue canopy witnessing
The enduring of earth.

Nature reminds me
Why it’s worth it,
Gives me a way
To ground myself.
But I get caught in whirlpools,
And sometimes the surface
Is so far away, I’m not sure
If I can swim to the top.

Original writing by Katrina Ariel.

All good over here. No worries. Just writing words.

Been focusing on self-care and manuscript revisions, even picked up my guitar last night and practiced my latest song, so that’s good.

Sometimes the waves get low, but the ebb and flow balances things out eventually. Ride on.

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Thanks for reading. :)

Whatever happens, keep singing your song!

Peace. @katrina-ariel

Top photo credit: Sarah Lee/Unsplash, gif via giphy.com.

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Author bio: Katrina Ariel is an old-soul rebel, musician, tree-hugging yogini, and mama bear to twins. Author of Yoga for Dragon Riders (non-fiction) and Wild Horse Heart (romance), she's another free-spirit swimming in the ocean of life.

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