
This a poem about accepting who you are, and escaping your own merciless expectations.
Thanks for coming by to read.
How nice it is,
To comfort my fears,
To quiet my wounded pride;
How nice it is,
To let it all out,
Not bottle it up, inside.
The old me would go
and bolt all the doors
And batten the hatches, too;
The old me would go
And rummage through drawers,
And search for a scapegoat, too.
How nice it is,
To taste all my tears:
They’re running like rivers down;
How nice it is,
To cherish the years,
Their thorny, but golden, crown.
The old me would go
And count all I’ve missed,
And curse, and be pissed, and then,
The old me would go
and judge me deficient,
and punish my mortal sin.
How nice it is
To feel what I feel,
To hide and to heal, no more;
How nice it is,
To ponder my fate,
To wonder, what lies in store.
The old me would be
So pure, yet so wretched,
So strict, yet progressive, too;
The new me I see
Is so buoyant and free, yet
So flawlessly human, too.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
In this month of scandals and harsh criticism of our institutions and leaders, here is a hero-worship poem about New York Governor Andrew Cuomo. I wrote it a year ago, when his reputation was still very much intact: Excelsior.
And another reminder that it (the pandemic I mean) ain’t over till it’s over:Â Pretty Please. Pretty please, be safe!
Got my second shot yesterday!!
I really like the contrast between the old you and the new you! The process of gaining maturity?
With me, it definitely took some time. Perhaps others know a shortcut. 😊
I certainly know of no shortcut. It took me years and years to get anywhere near maturity!
It is a work in progress with me, for sure!😊