Art, ascension, change, poet, Poetry, purpose, rebirth, Source

FIRST I MUST BREAK.

FIRST I MUST BREAK.

There’s a mighty roar of oceans.
Oceans that want to reach out and pour.
A mighty roar of oceans.
That want to breathe life once more.
There’s a new beginning.
Stripped bare from what was before.
As I shed my hair.
In to the wind.
Leave the one behind.
Who once was.
She doesn’t fit in.
No in the concept of herself.
No more.
A need to move forward.
Or upward.
The old had no more room to grow.
No place to go.
The silence too still.
No will can take this lake.
A touch to talk.
One word may breathe, breath, walk.
First I need to break.
To feel the wind within.
The willows bloom breath.
The heart breathes gold dust.
To dance as the field.
Without a care for more.

Poem – Helen Rebecca Hart.