
"All that sadness. All that anger. It is the smoke that gets in your eyes. If you do not blow it away, how can you hope to see?"
- Anthony Horowitz
To be a curtain in the breeze.
Joining the flow of air
rising, falling,
lifting, lowering
gathering, and letting go.
I will be a curtain
hate will not inhabit my heart. I will not hold it.
Instead it will travel like airflow.
(I expect to falter, I am only human after all. Yet, I continue to observe all that can teach me how to keep my heart soft.)
Like the curtain welcomes all that arrives,
letting it pass through
while remaining light.
© Ali Grimshaw 2026
Join a welcoming group of poets on dVerse Poets Pub for open link night and share a poem of your choosing HERE.

I love all the sentiments in your poem. And what beautiful photos too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for visiting. Wishing you peace.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A curtain in the wind, something so ordinary and mundane. Yet it speaks to us if we pause and think about it. The curtain flows with what’s passes by, takes in light and dances with the winds. Not afraid to go along with nature and what’s around. That is a beautiful shot you took of yourself and the backdrop. Hiking in Argentina looks wonderful. Hope you had a great time there 😊💕
LikeLiked by 1 person
How lucky I am to have had many lovely hikes in Argentina. Traveling is such a privilege.
LikeLike
Indeed, traveling is such a pilgrimage. It’s humbling and reminds us how lucky we are in many ways 💞
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your photos are light and beautiful as are your words, thank you for this, Ali!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope they gave your day a lift❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
…hate will not inhabit my heart. I will not hold it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤️❤️❤️
LikeLike
oh, this is so nice
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Beth. I am continuing to choose to follow love above all else. May peace find you today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤️
LikeLike
ooh, like this one…
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Lilli Ann. I spent a long time this afternoon writing with the door open watching the curtain blow as a storm moved in. Then this poem arrived with the rain.
LikeLike