Mirror of Love

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By knowing you,

I find myself.

Now and 90 years wrinkled.

My doubts don’t exist in your eyes.

You see the chipped edges

scars of failed attempts

places worn raw from not retreating.

The rough, abeyant curves of my puzzle.

You see my essence of spirit

gently hold it all up,

a mirror before me,

now I can see,

for myself,

who I am becoming.

 

Revised version of the original poem shared in 2016

© Ali Grimshaw 2017

 

365 pages

Out of an infinite number of stories ending this year

how lucky am I to continue mine.

To understand, as I didn’t before

how to see the next blank page

author what is left.

To smear the words by numbing

or battle to awaken the next chapter,

an internal fight rekindled by rewrites.

Still awed by the power of dusk to soften the view

I choose to attend this party called life.

Many minutes are not guaranteed.

I savor this very one.

© Ali Grimshaw 2017

Each year I celebrate the gift of getting to live another year by writing a birthday  poem. This is my poem for 2016. I don’t have the words to clearly express the layers of learning, global connection and inspiration I found by jumping into the world of blogging this year. Thank you to WordPress for making it possible and to the many, many kind bloggers who offered support. I am honored to have a poem chosen by the Drabble as one of the top ten editor’s picks for the year. Ten of our favorite Drabbles of 2016.  I hope this inspires you to share your voice in 2017.

Discover Challenge – Retrospective

 

A View from Above

Outside the window

traffic below creeping away from all that matters.

Amongst the jammed up colors,

a pedestrian easily weaves through the congestion

slipping through the heavy flow of life.

gracefully he continues while surrounded by the unmoving,

often pausing to look up.

He alone sees the clouds above the tall buildings.

No one else remembers the sky.

© Ali Grimshaw

Open-Minded   Discovery Challenge

Looking Ahead

By knowing you,

I find myself.

Now and 90 years wrinkled.

My doubts don’t exist in your eyes.

You see the chipped edges and

places worn raw from not retreating.

The rough, abeyant curves of my puzzle.

You see my essence of spirit.

gently holding it all up,

like a mirror before me,

so that I can see,

for myself,

who I am becoming.

© Ali Grimshaw 2016

 

The Value Of A Question

I would rather be meandering,

in the world of a single question,

than sitting with the answer,

back on the shore,

drinking from the same cup,

gazing out the kitchen window,

at the fleeting white sails.

© Ali Grimshaw

 

 

The Bridge

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