Activity
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sciifly shared a letter in the
Chasing Your Dreams group 6 months, 2 weeks agoDreaming Tree
Sandra MartiniI sat on concrete pavement asking the stars to show me a sign~
Snow flakes melted on my lips~
Opened eyes
I knew he heard my chime
The wind was speaking to me~
“Child ~always be kind”Visions of a natural divine- My Lord did hear my cries
I wanted to be held by thee
A force to teach me wise
My daddy a vague belief
My Father treats me kind
I fall in arms so thought to be something I long to knowPandora reassures herself at midnight in full moon’s glow
Heavy footsteps led a life in vain
Heartless memories draw so much shame
As only I smile to feed the dreaming tree
“Daddy come quick” so gone in memory
I begged and plead that very night God took heed in the stars so bright
Though disbelieved the sacred wind
To trail the roots that polluted kin
Begged salvation for I reached the depth
To discover the dreaming tree subsists
Nourish it with heart plus soul
Two sprinkles of dreams and three of gold
A dash immortality and one of boldThe dreaming tree lives, the relics unfold
Those who did not believe that night
Heard the winds had predicted a crest moon and rain
When evil lied in rhythms of naked branchesThe eclipse made the marked apologize in nodded shame
My dreaming tree had grown all this time
I knew,
I know,
I believe.I gave my all (so spent) as dear you are to me
The forecast called for a sunshine horizon
Out on the torrent sea
The dreaming tree survives in you
May your daddy be thoughts in knotted ribbons of blue
Your Father will provide for you at times of despair.
My dreaming tree blossoms
I smell spring in the air~ -
sciifly shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 6 months, 2 weeks agoSpring, Not Sprung
Spring, not sprung.
People can look like they’re fine, but inside they’re crying.
Many are trying, too many dying, I’m flying on some parachute of prayers.
To the God’s who will listen. To the points of the cardinal directions.
I look up and no longer see Orion who has always been my protector.My hands fall short of magic. My generosity exceeds in deeds, grateful to bless, but somehow not enough to me. I know life is unalome, never even keel- my path made me stronger, wounds have healed.
Although the deeper I dive, the pain becomes real. I deal. I’ve observed on every level, inhaled, exhaled and weighed it on the scales. It tips. Balance is off-
When the whole world is upside down and right side up, I still live in my bubble. When I’m lost, I retreat. No white flag, no olive branch, no phone calls, just me- in the corner with a pen and paper, crying. For everyone I’ve lost, for everyone I’ve ever loved and had to walk away from, for everyone who bears the weight on their shoulders but wakes up and smiles at the world, I am you.Spring, but not sprung.
Let me feel the rain on my face as I know it waters the flowers that blossom in the spring.
I miss my family and friends who are in another realm. Let their energy protect mine. Allow me to shine like gold in a river on sunny day.
I need my magic or I am useless.
To the God’s~ Please protect us.
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Thank you so much for sharing your poems and letters. I enjoy reading them. I really love adventuring your adoration to nature and how you compare yourself and the human emotions to nature. I always say Mother Nature never judges she keeps going and has several outlets to release her emotions. That is the same for us we have several creative…read more
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Darnel LaFrance shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 6 months, 3 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Rose Dreamera shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 3 weeks agonever take love lightly
never take love lightly
remember that
the world you know today
could, and will shift in an instantbe courageous enough
to love so deeply
that you’ll go the extra mile
to create beautiful memories
with the people you cherish
and involve all of your senses
in being present with themtell them that you love them
but don’t stop there
learn what to do for the ones
who’s lives matter most to you
seek what makes them feel loved
listen to what touches their hearts
and see them shine brighter
as you learn to speak
their languagestart with giving yourself
all of that care
because if anyone deserves it
so do you
then spread that love around you-
Hi Rose, thank you so much for sharing what love truly is and giving insight on how we can share love amongst those who are around us. I was reading in another post and the words resonated to me so well “unadulterated love”. I feel like that ties into unconditional love just truly loving someone the way that they are because we never know what…read more
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Am! I’m really thankful for your message. It feels good to know that my words resonated with you. ^^
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 3 weeks agoThe Weight of Grief: My Journey
Anita A WilliamsMy grief began on January 20th, 2020, the day my dad passed away unexpectedly. His death shook my world to its core. Before he passed, I was on a journey of self-discovery. I was losing weight, exercising, building routines, and trying to figure out who I was. At the time, I was still in a relationship I knew I needed to leave, and I thought I was getting closer to freeing myself from it. But when my dad died, it felt like a part of me died with him. I had never been without him, and I didn’t know how to live without his presence in my life.
Instead of facing my grief, I did what I always did: I went back to work two weeks later. Work became my way of coping—a distraction from the deep pain I didn’t want to confront. This became a pattern in my life. Whenever tragedy or loss struck, I buried myself in work to avoid the pain.
After my dad passed, I ended a long relationship with someone I deeply loved—the first person who ever loved me correctly. From there, I found myself in relationships I never should have been in, all while grieving and ignoring the emotions I desperately needed to face.
Then, on December 10, 2021, I faced another devastating loss: the baby I had prayed for passed away. I woke up that day with my baby still inside me, no longer alive. I had to go to the hospital to have my child removed, and after that heart-wrenching experience, I went right back to work—this time at the prison where I was employed. That environment was already filled with stress and negativity—not just from the inmates but from the staff as well. Yet, I threw myself back into work instead of confronting my grief.
More loss followed. My dad’s brother passed, and once again, I buried the pain under work. But this year, God made me sit down. He placed me in a season of isolation where I couldn’t run from my emotions anymore. I had to deal with everything I had been avoiding: the grief, the unhealthy patterns, and the trauma I had been carrying for years.
I ended a three-year relationship, began setting boundaries, and started addressing the pain I had ignored for so long. Day by day, I’ve been working through it. It hasn’t been easy, but with each step, it’s getting better. I’m learning that healing is a process, and I’m finally allowing myself to feel, to grieve, and to grow.
This year has been about progress. While I still have a long way to go, I know I’m moving in the right direction. And for that, I am grateful.
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TaMara E'Lan G. shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 6 months, 4 weeks agoI held her to me: Mommy
TaMara E'Lan G.The storm had finally arrived after brewing in a silent sea of delusion for far too long. The wind of truth blew fiercely against us all and the rain that fell endlessly were indeed our tears. The clouds drifted across an amber sky of clustered thoughts that hid the sunlight that day.
Yet still I held her to me.
I spoke of angels and good Soul food, whispered love and affirmations in her ear, and kissed her lips. Memories like morning dew covered and saturated my heart.
Yet still I held her to me.
Not knowing that she felt me or even knew who I was any longer because the time was at hand. Her breathing was shallow and yet the life she had lived spoke volumes throughout her transitioning. There was no more time for abandonment issues or thoughts of past transgressions; no space for generational strongholds to reinforce trauma bonding. For soon she would be gone, embraced by the light and Angels she adored. “Thank you” she had told me a mere few days ago as I cared for her, cleaning her and playing her favorite music. “I love you” she had said words that I thought I would never hear her say again after our estrangement.
Yet still I held her to me.
The embrace gave us both the closure that we needed and sought from each other. This day the hospice nurse comes to pull us out of the dark room “Give her space to transition” she said, “often loved ones won’t transition when being watched.” At the time, and in my grief, I thought that was odd of her to say. However when we went back into the room, I touched my mommy’s cooling skin and her stillness almost frightens me, yet it was then that I knew she was gone.
Yet still I held her to me.
Emotions too deep to express escaped us as we gathered around the shell that once housed her spirit. She had joined the ancestors that now danced in the wind beyond this realm. And as the years and time attempt to comfort us all in her absence, as she comes to visit us in dreams to hold dear with our memories, when moments too big for explanation are captured – my thoughts are of our last hug, when still I held her to me.-
Thank you so much for being such a wonderful light and sharing your insight and outlet through grief. I believe it’s so important to find a helpful and healing outlet through the journey of grief. Reading this brought back memories of my father. I also love your imagery in this piece. Thank you so much for sharing.
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beyondbarriers shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Matthew Jablonsky shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoBroken New Years
Matthew L JablonskyThe year is almost over,
And another will soon start.
This year, however,
I’ll begin with a broken heart.I’m missing my loved ones,
My friends who’ve recently passed.
I miss their sweet voices,
Their smiles and their laughs.It was supposed to be a Merry Christmas!
Another photo in the album!
Then suddenly that changed,
to the first Christmas without ’em…I screamed up at God,
“CAN YOU JUST TELL ME WHY?”
“ARE YOU EVEN UP THERE?!”
“AM I JUST YELLING AT THE SKY?!?!”I fell to my knees,
and started punching at the ground.
When suddenly I realized…
My loved one’s are all around…They’re right here with me,
Feeling all this pain.
Does that mean they feel the sunshine?
Does it mean they feel the rain?Maybe they’re not as gone,
As the world seems to say.
Maybe they’re right beside me…
Every night and every day!If they’re here with me,
Guiding my every move…
Then I know that I can make it!
Because there’s nothing they can’t do!This poem is dedicated in loving memory to my friends Alex Wisniewski, Joe Ewer, and Tammy Pouliot, but it goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one.
You are not alone. ❤️❤️❤️
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Wow, this poem almost brought me to tears. Your words are very heartfelt and gave me insight that I am not alone on this grieving journey. At times, I scream and feel alone. But I am learning that there are other people who understand the grieving process and that it is not easy. Thank you for your kind words and confidence in sharing your…read more
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Hey Matt, I watched my father slowly pass from lung cancer. And my mom is only getting older. Three cousins passed,2 were younger than me and passed due to drug addiction. And a bunch of guys I grew up around do to gun violence. But one thing I learned in recovery is life don’t get better we get better at life.
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Kara Kukovich shared a letter in the
Chasing Your Dreams group 7 months agoTo Dream of Happiness
Kara KukovichDear Former Self,
I know life is hard for you. I understand how just existing is painful. Once you dreamed of being happy, or at least content. Now you only dream of death. Don’t give up though little one. Start believing that happiness is within reach, that you can and will find it someday.
You think you’re so wise, but there’s things you still don’t know. Someone should have told you that what you’re feeling is a sickness of the mind. Instead they let you believe you are bad – antisocial to hide away, stubborn not to eat, and “always airing your dirty laundry” when you finally do speak. This sickness, this clinical depression, has eaten away your confidence, overwhelmed you with sadness, and closed you eyes to hope. It’s trying to kill you and right now it’s winning. But you’ll get strong, find the help you need, and beat this thing back.
Someday those endless stream of doctors will lead you to some good medicine. You’ll have to keep up with a lot of pills, but it will quell that mad misery plaguing you. You will get to know your sickness inside and out, including how to zap it’s energy and hold over you.
I will not lie. You will never kill the beast. But your dream of happiness is still achievable. You can learn to tame the monster, hold it at bay, and when it grabs you, you’ll be able to loosen yourself from its grip. As you grow bigger, it’ll get small and weak.
Someday you won’t be alone in your struggle either. You’ll find love and understanding in real friends and a life partner who takes care of you when you can’t care of yourself. This love will fill your dry well of loneliness and you’ll feel warmth instead of that chilling cold.
You’ll manage a semblance of normalcy – and not as a show, but genuine stability and satisfaction. You won’t be happy all the time, but you will come to a place where you realize you’re happy with your life. No longer will you dream of death. Instead you’ll dream of exciting new adventure lying ahead. Oh, and adventures you will have – summitting snowy peaks, riding trains through India, making wine with your cousins in eastern Europe, skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean, studying under the Dalai Lama, and so much more.
So don’t give up little one. It may take a while, but some day your dream of happiness will come true.
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Wow! What a powerful story! It gave me chills, and you spoke directly to me with your ambitious words and vulnerability to express how to overcome the battle with positivity. I love how you clearly end the poem, never giving up and striving through the fight. Remaining patient is the virtue of every concept of life. Thank you so much for sharing…read more
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Your feedback means a lot to me Cierra. I always hope my struggles and story is not for naught. Even one person being inspired or helped means the world to me!
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everything andnothing shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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everything andnothing shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Joy Lowary shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Barbara Lorello shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months agoDear Bernie Marcus
Love, BarbDear Bernie Marcus:
I met you in 2014, when I got recruited by the company you and Arthur Blank started back in the 1970’s. That story came to life in your book “Built from Scratch.”
If anyone told me that my life’s mission would be in a hardware store, I would have told them they were crazy, but it has been the place where God placed me to do his work.
When my children were young, my ex-husband didn’t want me to work. That was the time I got the volunteering bug. It felt so good to give back, and I went all out; I volunteered full time at my children’s school. I also volunteered in a nature preserve studying endangered plants and served on several boards.
While I was going through my divorce, another talent surfaced. I realized I had a knack for encouraging young people to reach their potential to be the best version of themselves. I could teach them how to be great leaders, care for their people, and love the company they worked for. This came in the form of tough love, empathy, and compassion for the trials that young people face as they grow.I started this part of my journey with an electronics company with a yellow tag for their logo. I honed my skills and blossomed in that environment. At the time, that company was struggling to find its place. Five restructurings in six years had me questioning my future. It was divine intervention when a recruiter from your company came into my yellow tag store and asked my boss if he had any talent that was affected by the most recent restructure; he gave her my name.
Both these skills led me through ten years of working for you, using God given natural craft to make each store I worked in just a little better. I’ve been able to develop leaders who will continue to make your company strong into the future. You’ve allowed me to give back to our community through writing grants for veterans and those in need.
God knew what he was doing when he brought us together. Working for you also gave me the opportunity to hear people’s stories. For some reason, people gravitate to me and tell me their stories, most consist of life’s struggles. It gives me an opportunity to slow down, offer a shoulder to cry on, and a hug to ease their pain.
Bernie, although we never met in person, your legacy is commendable. You’ve helped make thousands of blue-collar people become millionaires. Your foundations, created before and after your time in service, are still strong and help thousands of people every day. This will all live on in your memory, and we will keep your legacy alive.
I am deeply honored to work for your company. RIP, Bernie, you did it well.
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Isabella Serra shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months, 1 weeks agosince you disappeared, you've been everywhere
Isabella SerraWhen a human dies, the world stands still for a quiet moment and no one on earth can breathe. Then each individual except for you takes their next inhale and I realize that the world was never still at all.
People say that they would die for you, but do people ever say that they would live for you?
I would live for you; I will live the life that you never got to experience fully and I will take you with me.The sorts of things that people live for; I will chase exhilaration as a hungry ghost praying for its bones and flesh.
I will collect my insides begging to love them. I will watch fireflies and wonder what they mean.I will curse the day that you had to leave this blip of mine.
I will dance until I cry, then I will cry until I laugh. I will throw myself into the depths of an ice bath just to miss the heat.I will find joy in the little things because it’s what you would have wanted. And I will stop smoking cigarettes out of spite. I will celebrate the person that you were and the people that you healed and forgive you for letting yourself be so out of reach.
Since you disappeared, I’ve seen you everywhere! At the sight of tea, the sound of a sad guitar, in the eyes of those who loved you.
Those who knew the gift of knowing you and wanted you so badly to stay.When a human dies, the soul searches the universe for a body to be held; what I would do to feel your warm tears wet my goose-bumped shoulder and squeeze your hand saying that we’re not that different from each other instead of this.
When a human dies, their friends and blood carry their body across the fields of a lonesome cemetery and place flowers to keep them company.
And for some people the world keeps spinning. But for some of us, the world is just as still. -
S.K shared a letter in the
Magical Moments group 7 months, 1 weeks agoHe who had me at “please”
SaritaIt was Diwali eve.
Walking about on the crowded streets of a busy bazaar, with a handful of unnecessarily full shopping bags, I attempted to absorb the capitalistic madness and the sensory overload all around me. Evidently, I had spent too much time away from home, and had clearly lost the knack of smart street side shopping. A skill over which, I had unwittingly relinquished my mastery.
Looking to purchase those lovely bangles from the street stall, I found myself shamelessly bargaining with the vendor to reduce the ticket price by 200 rupees(2 dollars) . Not because I did’not want to pay the extra couple of bucks but because it felt like a gratifying activity to engage in .There was something ego boosting about seeing someone succumb to my whimsical wishes.
It was then I felt a gentle pat on my back.
In front of me , well below eye level stood a little boy who if had to guess, was no older than possibly 8 years. A boy whose smile matched the smiles on the colorful balloons he carried and intended to sell. I was smitten and felt an instant liking. Right away, I experienced a fondness for his face, his untainted innocence, his purity, his aura.But I had no logical need for his giant balloons, then or ever at all. Sadly realizing this, I gently shooed him away. His face fell but he didn’t move. It was clear he wasn’t just about ready to give up on me yet.Mustering up courage , he begged me for help stating he had’nt eaten in a while and any money I could hand out would go a long way in feeding him and his sister.I wanted to help him but I had no local currency. As I rummaged through my purse I kept glancing at him, half expecting him to grab my purse any minute and run away. But he waited patiently. “I am sorry but I don’t have any local money” , I informed him sadly.Although he was disappointed , at some level I believe he could sense my genuine intent to help.Sheepishly he folded his hands behind his back and stuttered” Aunty, it’s ok. But can I walk you to a store near by? They have firecrackers and accept credit cards”
I found myself smiling involuntarily.
Clearly, it wasn’t a very thought out request . He was hungry and needed food. He has no need for frivolous fireworks. He just wanted them.
In front of me , I saw just a child. A child searching for joy in unsuspecting ways. A child who had no plan about his next meal. A child who had his priorities all wrong.
He was a child and that was all there was to him.
And that fact , justified all aspects irrational about the “please” he said to me that day .As I accompanied him to the store and got him the fireworks he desired, he walked away elated while I walked away with an awakening.
Sometimes, it is ok to just not foresee a future.
Sometimes, It is ok to be frivolous.
It is ok to look for instant gratification.
It is ok to not have a plan at all for some tomorrows.
Vetrivel and many such kids continue to live their lives by the day.
All they have is this today
A today that can never guarantee that a tomorrow shall even be.
All they have is this today
A today to tide through
In hope, joy and wishful childlike glee.-
Aww, this is incredibly sweet. I am sure this is a moment that the little boy will remember for the rest of his life. I am sure he was so excited. Thank you for sharing. I am going to make this our featured piece in our newsletter today. And I know I am late but Happy Diwali! <3 Lauren
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Thanks for reading my piece Lauren! And thanks for the Diwali wishes as well🥰
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Barbara Lorello shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months, 1 weeks agoDear Queen Elizabeth
Love, BarbDear Queen Elizabeth:
I miss you dearly. The day you died it was as if my grandmother died all over again.
I’ve always had a morbid obsession with the royal family. I’ve read all the books about your family from Diana, by Andrew Morton, to A Royal Duty, by Paul Burrell, to Spare by your grandson, Prince Harry and many more. All of them were fascinating, although not always true.
Throughout my life I have grown up with you. I was born in 1962 so by the time we met you were already Queen of England. As I grew, so did you. I was a shy little girl with many insecurities. To me, you were a vision of beauty, grace and commitment. I would learn later that you probably had the same insecurities as I did.
My grandmother was the matriarch of our family, although we were far from royalty. She had the same stature; petite, always wore a dress, never pants. Wore modest heels and always carried a handbag. As a small child I remember her always having hard candy in her bag, a way to keep me quiet during Sunday church services. She even had the same hairstyle. All during my childhood she and I were close. She was my everything and my example of what it was to be a strong beautiful woman, head of the family, and full of love, just like you.
I guess what happened when Nani got Alzheimer’s is when there was a switch. The last time I saw my grandmother was in 1988. I’d lived in Florida, had a baby, and came home to visit. When I visited her, she didn’t remember me. See, I’d been away for a while. Alzheimer’s disease does that to a person. I left that day carrying my six-month-old baby boy, tears streaming down my face, vowing to never see her again. I wanted to remember as she’d been all my life. I couldn’t watch her wither away. For the next eight years my grandmother hung on to her life.
They say that God works in mysterious ways. What I am about to tell you, Elizabeth, is proof of that. During the years after I saw her last, I would pray for Nani every day. My Aunt, her caretaker, and my father would keep my abreast of her condition, which was slowly deteriorating. In the Autumn of 1996, she was declining quickly and by mid-November that year, we knew the end was near.
I continued to pray that God would take her home so she could be with the love of her life, my Papa Sam. I knew He was listening, but she was hanging on. Then, on December 19, 1996, I got a call from my father telling me that my grandmother had passed away. I took a deep sigh and cried. They were tears of relief that her battle was finally over. You see God gave me the greatest gift that day, he took my beloved Nani home, on my birthday. It was one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me.
I watched you grow old, lose family members, and your beloved Philip. You took each setback with dignity and grace. Unlike my grandmother, you had all your facilities till the end of your life. You didn’t have to suffer, you went quickly. I believe God knew your work here was done, and it was time for you to go home.
Thank you, Elizabeth, for doing God’s work, staying true to your faith and loyal to your family. I’ll continue to miss you.
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Darnel LaFrance shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months, 2 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Sara Johnson shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months, 3 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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sacred-chapeter shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 7 months, 3 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Dana N. shared a letter in the
Remembering those we lost/Grief group 7 months, 3 weeks agoA Ballad of Brothers, A Sister's Lament
DanaWhen I woke up this morning
I didn’t know
What I would come home to.
Where did you go?
There wasn’t a warning
Now we’re all in mourning
Wond’ring if our time was well spent.Oh brother dearly departed of mine
Why did you leave
Without saying good night?
I was sleeping soundly
When I woke up to a scream
That I swear was you saying goodbye.As the time passes
We all start to heal.
Except for one brother
Who just couldn’t deal.
Several years later
All that reckless behavior
Just got him a grave next to yours.Oh brothers dearly departed of mine
Why did you leave
Without saying good night?
I was sleeping soundly
When I woke up to a scream
That I swear was you saying goodbye.Now there’s only one brother
Left standing with me.
I thought things were fine
Until he tried to leave.
In sharing this truth,
Though closer in youth,
I thought that our time was well spentOh brother nearly departed of mine,
Why would you leave
Without saying goodbye?
I thought that only you
Could understand what I’ve been through,
So at least it would be you
To say goodbye.Author’s Note:
I debated whether or not I wanted to share this with the world. It’s been a part of me for 20 years. It’s one of the most vulnerable parts of me and putting that on the internet for the world to see is intimidating, even as someone who sees vulnerability as strength rather than weakness.I wrote that second verse when I was 15 trying to make a song out of it, but more words never came no matter how hard I tried. As the inspiration came though me to write the rest this month, I realize now that I had more life to live before it could truly come to life. It needed to be on the back burner all this time to find the full depth of this feeling I will always carry with me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever try to turn this into a song like the original intent. Just writing that last verse, saying it all out loud, and writing this post have brought me to tears more than once. But it felt right to at least bring it to life as is because Jeremiah would be turning 40 tomorrow and that’s the kind of celebration you do big gestures for, right?
25 years without him, 9 years without Adam, 3 years since other things. This kind of healing doesn’t happen without scars. I am the happiest and healthiest I’ve ever been in my life. These feelings still creep in now and again. It doesn’t make me any less happy and healthy, it’s just a small price tag to pay for the love I still carry.
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I’m so sorry for your losses.
This was beautiful written.
Sending you big hugs💜 -
Dana, this is a beautiful tribute not only to your brothers, but also to your strength in being able to remember and honor them. Siblings share a special bond, even if they aren’t that close as adults. Your vulnerability here certainly shows how strong you are. Thank you for sharing your experience and your beautiful writing.
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Thank you so much. I definitely wanted to honor that sibling bond. There is not a word for an orphan of siblings so I wanted to explore that feeling and provide a space for anyone else who has shared that feeling. Even though my last brother is still around, coming so close to losing him really highlighted the fear of mine to lose him too young…read more
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I love the deep connection between yourself and nature that you share. I believe if we are willing to sit and listen to nature it speaks to us in many volumes. I really enjoyed the metaphors and imagery that you have written in this poem!
Thank you for sharing your connection with nature!
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Thank you so much Cierra. I love writing. It has always been my outlet in good times and bad. I’ll post more to share. I sincerely appreciate you taking the time out to read them and giving me feedback.
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