Growing Pains

I think we go through life choosing the easy way,

Remaining well within our comfort zone of

Just enough and not too much.

And, really, don’t we have enough on our plates

Without worrying about moral obligations.

We fit ourselves snugly into patterns and routines –

A shell to shield us from unpleasant confrontation.

But every now and then that shield will crack and

In a great upheaval my soul will stretch and grow,

Burst forth like a volcano hot and raw.

 

Last night, through pain and much discomfort,

My soul outgrew its shell and I’ve been standing

Very still to wait, to catch my breath and to expand,

To catch up and contain again what you

With brutal honesty a bitter truth revealing,

Have questioned, battled, then implored.

That better part of me which you have called upon

And so has come to know a greater way of being.

Without a shell but with a veil of thankfulness and gratitude,

A blessing on your own sweet self.

 

© jsmorgane (July 2014)

The Marschallin: ‘Sometimes, in the small hours…’

Your ear like a shell, cream-coloured

And tinged with a flush

Around the smooth edges,

Almost transparent

In the early sun.

 

Your skin like finest sands

With the dawn upon them.

A curling lock of your dark hair,

Lank on your forehead,

Moist with the night.

 

Your neck proudly arched,

Like a harp’s harmonic curve,

Strings echoing a chiming clock.

And when I rest my head on

Your youthful breast

I hear the faint sound of passing time…

 

©jsmorgane