Stemmed (Growth)

It’s the sigh of relief after you hold your breath.

Growth.

Suffocating because I chose to be rooted to my problems.

Growth.

The fear of knowing that those roots would replant themselves if I nurtured it.

Growth.

No one could tell me better.

No one could choose what’s best.

Growth.

The ability to be as stubborn as a bull

yet naive as a bird.

Growth.

 Screaming in places meant for whispers;

chastising the tears from my whimpers.

Growth.

Disregarding the truth from my elders,

the constant rings in my ear supplied me shelter.

Growth.

Writing it once to get it over with.

No conversation about it.

Growth:

it is the humbling experience necessary to outgrow these things;

the roots to my problems were necessary to grow.

Growth is a two sided coin;

no matter where you turn your attention, 

you’ll see what good came from the bad.

Growth:

For the better and best that you will be.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741