Falling to Find Myself – A Poem

The world wasman-rising-up-hand-11098229

falling

around me. I

tried to take

a step, but

the floor rose

up

to meet me,

as if it

wanted to give

me an embrace.

I knew that

something was wrong,

that my body

was not my

own anymore.

I waited months

for a diagnosis,

longing to know

the name of

the beast that

now resided within

me, while at

the same time

dreading the outcome.

What shadow lay

within me? And

more importantly, could

I accept it

once it had

a human name?

While I waited,

I fell again

and again, my

body rebelling against

what I wanted

it to do.

When I did

finally get an

answer, the symptom

was like a

voice in the

wind, there but

fleeting. There, but

like gossamer within

my grasp. As

I tried to

relearn what my

body was and

what I house

inside my skin,

I took steps

towards getting better.

I started on

the inside, focusing

on the Spirit

and then the

heart. Only then

would I be

strong enough to

tackle the biggest

obstacle: my body.

I found solace

in Reiki, found

guidance in Tarot

cards, found comfort

in Manifestation, in

choosing my own

path. I was

still falling, still

letting the ground

rise up to

meet me, its

concrete embrace somehow

comforting because it

was something familiar

now. However, each

time I got

up, each time

I pulled my

body upright and

brushed off the

dust left behind

from my concrete

embrace, I was

stronger. Each time

I got back

up and refused

to stay down,

I found a

little bit more

of myself. I

could see the

pieces of the

chalice that had

been within me

littering the street

like diamonds, glittering

in the half

sunlight of mid-day.

I gathered each

one as I

found them, following

their luminescence towards

the future. Each

time I took

one in my

grasp, it lay

in my hand

for a moment,

but would then

sink into my

skin. I could

feel the chalice

rebuilding itself within

me, the shards

and pieces fusing

together. As each

piece found its

mate, the light

within me grew

stronger. I wasn’t

just falling. I

was falling to

find myself, the pieces

of me that

I had lost.

With each piece,

I took back

more of myself,

regained the pieces

of me that

I had thought

to be lost.

Each time I

stood up again,

I wasn’t merely

regaining my footing.

More than that,

I was reclaiming

myself, I was

rising

for a new

day, for a

new dawn, for

a new me.

Every time I

got back up,

I was telling

myself that the

disease wouldn’t win,

and that was

enough.

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About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, Number One Best Selling Author. He writes in many different genre's. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
This entry was posted in Info, Letting the Water Flow, Poems, Talking Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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