Like a wildfire run through a field
Of dry grass, dandelions and flowers
Fear chars the landscape of my life
From the nothingness looking up
At the zenith of my peers and friends
Releasing more lashes of disappointment
On the raw flesh of my self-chastised back
Comparison resulting in more disdain
The plume of the blaze of self-destruction
Visible from many miles away
A toxic stench of burnt self-pity
Ignited by the doubt of not good enough
And the search for excuses as to why
But the foam extinguisher of realization
Stops my thoughts in their harmful tracks
And the embers die beneath a new hope
Of trees that take many years to stand tall
Wines aged to perfection with passing time
And the honey of industrious bees
Only meant for the briefest of moments
In terms of the average human lifespan
And in this my attempt at analogy ends
Because I will ripen, I will blossom and succeed
At the ticking hour that is perfect and divine
And intended precisely for me
I am at the junction ideal for my development
Debbie Gravett © 2021.05.13
RDP: Plume
FOWC: Zenith
Image by Terri Sharp from Pixabay
I love this poem, Debbie. The last line is a perfect finish (or start) with the the branching of this tree.
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Thank you. I absolutely love trees, so had to include them. Have an amazing day.
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