Although I am loath to discuss spirituality extensively here, I am finding that the poems which I am writing have a particular bent at the moment. My second April poem-a-day follows.
I surrender to this becoming
All that I was, I still shall be
This, and much more.
Growth, a shedding of old identities
The person I used to be, the stories that were currency
I hold them close, but they chain me no longer.
Just as much as we are created beings
We create ourselves anew
With every moment, with every choice
Every time we say ‘I won’t let this define me.’
So it is – pain will not be who I am
I bow to its important work
Yet resist allowing it to claim me
For once, I am certain
I will be more.