The poet in me......

I look in the mirror
and what do I see?
I see a woman
where a child used to be.

Oh how I long for my younger days
I was so happy then.
Not a care in the world
Oh to live those days again.

Music moved my soul
I was a poet way back when
I feared nothing.
Straining to find the words
to be a poet again.

Writing about love
writing about pain
so honest
so raw
to expose my soul.
The one thing missing
to make me whole again.

How does one find a talent lost when life loses its luster?  I was a deep thinking poet, back in the day.  There are days I strain to get that release that I have been so desperately looking for.  Somehow, somewhere, I have thoughts of something different... better, but I have become so good at pushing down the desire to be completely honest with myself, that I have become complacent in the here and now.  My little "research moments", my little "rants, raves, and random thoughts" only scrape the surface.  Why am I so scared to be completely "free" with who I am?  Have I become too concerned with what other people think?  Is it possible that my experiences in life trained me to become so distant with who I thought I was?  Was the pain of feeling like a "loner" when I knew I was not alone the catalyst for me to build that protective wall that surrounds my heart?  Was it one, or many people that have managed to steal a piece of my heart to blame for me changing so much?

I can only guess that life is meant to be complex and difficult.  We all experience every emotion out there...  happy, sad, angry, frustrated, alone, and loved.  The reasons differ from person to person.  Not everyone has the same thought process.  Some are more tolerable than others when emotions affect our surroundings.  We all look and act different on the outside, but what we have on the inside is the same.  Our hopes, dreams and desires may differ, but the emotional attachment remains the same because it is our choice to react the way we do.

We all have a past.  It has molded us into who we are now.  We have a future that is yet to be discovered.  Life is a journey, not a destination.  Unless you believe that there is a destination in mind, there is only one...  Point A is when you were born and Point B is when you die.  The experiences, those twists and turns life has to offer, is the journey we all take.  It changes us from the lessons learned.  What we were at 2 years old is definitely different than what we became at 5, as we differ again in our teens, as we differ in our 20's, 30's, 40's and so on.  Each year we exist is another chapter of our story.

Life is an extreme sport.  We just don't show the scars from it on the outside.  Maybe the extreme nature of my past is what I long for.  That desire to live life to the fullest has tamed down and all I desire is the basic necessities.  You know... play it safe, color within the lines, think inside the box.  I just wonder of I can ever find my younger self in this older body and reignite that desire to knock down that protective wall that I have built over the years.  To be fearless again.

Look into my eyes
and what do you see?
A story struggling to be told
from a shackled heart from memories.
Longing for freedom
To express the real me.
No fear.....

Hmmm..... Maybe I have not lost the ability to be a poet.  Maybe tomorrow I can tell you another.  That is, if you want me to.....