Poetry – Page 129 – Picking Up Roots

Doubt

do I deserve this?
the question echoes 
in my mind,
as exhaustion lowers
my fragile defenses
allowing me to see clear
a past littered
with broken dreams,
failures,
and the deep wounds
I have caused.

I am doubt
wracked with guilt
over days I can't change,
I wonder:
"am I worthy of this -
or any - happiness?"
because it warms me now -
in spite of this fatigue -
it feels right 
I would cling to it
for all I'm worth -

have I done enough
to earn this moment?



yes

Asking for Sleep


take me now to that place
where I may know rest,
for I am tired
and my body aches
with the cares of the day -

let my mind rest easy
that my body may heal,
keep my troubles caged
and my burdens weightless
that I might know sleep

and better face
the worries of a new day.

Middle Age

the day beats down
in heavy waves
leaving me gasping, wasted
as I set out
to sweat out
this mess that I have become

the challenge:
to find who I was -
those ideals I held close,
the dreams I reached for -
before I gave into life's pleasures
and turned into
this mess I have become

my knees echo with the ache
of days gone by,
as my back reminds me
of brazen choices of youth,
and old wounds ache
with the coming rains,
I am determined not to accept
this mess I have become.