Cleaning Up the Mess – It’s Part of The Journey

by Melody Jean

Cleaning Up the Mess Photo Contemporary SeekerI haven’t been writing so much lately.

Actually, it’s not that I haven’t been writing; it’s just nothing of great length.

Daily I write the snippets that filter into my mind from somewhere else.

Those little bits that turn into picture posts I share with the world on social media.

Yet, here I sit feeling as if I need to “clean up the mess.”

It’s part of the journey.

How I do so, is through the artistry of words.

From There to Here 

I get here sometimes.

It’s usually after a long epoch of headstrong fulfillment of obligations, helping others, tending to my priorities and overcoming what seem insurmountable obstacles (at the time).

Yes, those periods when all happens simultaneously with no time to take a breath and the oddities appear one after another.

And throughout it all, I realize I just turn my head to any and all pain.

In hindsight I know why I do this.

It’s merely to conserve energy so I can focus on pushing onward and doing the next right thing.

It’s the way I make it through.

The Final Straw 

Yet, then it happens; I get to that itty bitty final straw.

The one that breaks me.

It’s usually that moment when my heart falls to pieces.

It breaks for the compilation of hopes dashed, dreams shattered, dignity maltreated, memories stolen, loves lost and promises in vein.

Yes, it’s in this moment I sit cleaning up the mess (inside) again.

I do so by honoring my feelings then praying they pass quickly.

I implore the almighty Universe to help them fade into the night and be gone like summer rain.

A Poem for Me, a Poem for You 

I wrote the poem below because I had to, that’s what I do.

Especially when cleaning up the mess.

Yet, I share it here so others may take what they need, if anything.

Peace and light.

Cleaning Up the Mess 

My heart breaks for

dreams shattered

hopes dashed

promises in vein

loves lost

lives forsaken

dignity maltreated

memories stolen;

all fading into the night.

Gone like summer rain.

It dissipates

and proliferates,

oh but who is to blame?

Not you, nor I;

surely not the universe’s toll.

It’s the inevitable choices

made by humankind as a whole.

 

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