Growth

Beauty resides where one seeks to find
The gentle reminders
Of this everyday life.
Death and life entwined
Yin and yang,
I walk through my forest
In solitude I seek
Answers to questions
That seem as endless
As my changing moods.
Getting older with each day that passes
Some days not recognizing
The girl now replaced
By someone new.
I have found a courage
To speak my words
To not fear the hand
Of retribution,
I need, no, I must do this
Even if it falls on a strangers ear
This changing
This growth.
They say to be a crone is beautiful
And of this I don’t quite know,
But I need to speak to my wood spirits
Because it is there I find
The solace and peace,
To feel the rich earth beneath my feet
To know the whispers of the wind
As they softly speak my name.
I touch the trees, caress the leaves
And sit amongst these living friends
That show no judgement.
Those old wise beings that heal my spirit
And teach me to look up in pride
Of all I am,
All I have become.
To see past the trees to the sky,
The moon and stars.
The lightning bugs dance their magical waltz
Delighting me to have witnessed
This moment,
And I shall grow more.

Embracing this universe
Making it my own.

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