With the brokenness
there is a choice
to hear the mirror
or bury that which you won’t face.
Without any proof
I know you can do the hard things.
It is courage coupled with action
that matters after we fall.
Brave has always
lived inside of you,
printed in bold letters.
Step forward
cloaked in courage to
pick up only the pieces that
are worth keeping.
© Ali Grimshaw 2019
It is a continual process to unweave
that which is truth from story. I pull
a thread, remove one line, observe how
the fabric changes, notice the new spaces
breathing between essential threads
that remain, a skeleton of existence
until extracting the unneeded
leaves what is left, sparsely resilient
penetrable light of a future once blocked
by memories tightly woven.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2018
Her face follows the sun
an anchor of light, trusted to lead while she grew
a warmth of reassurance when her sight was lost
from darkness. A seed born with the knowing
yet unable to realize until the day of blossoming.
She held it all along. Resolve of love, strength to push
through the compacted soil of failure, to stretch
when trampled, to believe in the next dawn
while she remained in the shadow of night.
© Ali Grimshaw 2018 – photo taken on a roadtrip in Spain
“Like sunflowers that stop tracking the sun as they mature, we too begin to respond differently to life as we age. We learn to brave more parts of the day with our heads turned away from the sun, because we realize that we can only know who we are if we let the sun shine behind us and allow it to draw our shadow in front of us, so that we may see how we are really shaped.
We begin to realize how even darkness has its gifts, and how even if we don’t always bask in the light, we can survive.” – When Sunflowers Stop Following The Sun
I was inspired to write this poem after reading this thoughtful article. Never underestimate the power of sharing with careful words.
Before the first wobbly
arms outstretched,
slightly unbalanced step,
the last step already exists.
Trip, fall, hill sliding imbalance
scarred knees, bandaged palms
concussions to consciousness,
where the living happens
white knuckles clutch to collapse
navigate with your internal compass
peel your fingers from cold metal
stray from the railing.
© Ali Grimshaw
In this coming year, 2017, I plan to be braver, to make my own new path and trust in the journey of contribution to others. I hope this poem inspires you to believe in new possibilities for yourself. I have a ready ear for anyone who wants to share their new path into 2017.
Title inspired by an article posted on bboxproductionsblog – Thank you!
Stalled on the bridge, in between here and there.
I look back to all I have built.
What is still standing and what is no longer in service.
Hoping others will use these spaces, be thoughtful about repairs.
That tall one will need a new roof.
Some may be too weathered to save.
Pausing on the bridge, in between here and there.
I look ahead to wide open space.
What could be built and what is needed.
Beauty that can only be created by elements and time.
A center which radiates the harmony of shade trees.
Bare hands joining for strength that I alone do not have.
I remain next to the railing.
water rushing beneath.
No longer who I was.
Not yet who I am becoming.
© Ali Grimshaw
A crack,
followed by a breaking open.
As the walls fall,
you will no longer be contained,
held separate.
Grieve and they shall crumble,
until the last stone is still.
Leaving you in a field of golden openness.
Wide and light.
No need for protection.
Bare.
In the warm air.
By Ali Grimshaw
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 