I am through.
No more will I play
the martyr's role;
there is no joy there.
I will not find fault in others
for my failure to achieve.
I will bear my yoke with thanks
for the experience provided,
and take up the cause
of my own happiness,
no longer leaving it to chance
or the whims of others.
I am no longer Life's victim.
I am unshackled.
I spread my arms wide
and embrace the air.
I am alive.
Category: Poetry
Untitled
A light fog sits easy
atop the empty field
stained with the night's tears,
its blades bent under
the weight of their sadness -
they wait for the first rays
of sunlight to cut through the mist
and loosen the muscles
of their backs
that they might stand straight
and carry their burdens
unbowed and bask
in the glow of the sun.