Unpacking takes time.
Or more like transitions.
Crest and troughs, they do the most.
Fluctuations during the mission.
And sometimes, I get lost.
I dive into my fears, making waves.
In the concave of my shadows.
Through my deep woes.
To the rotting, unfertilized seeds,
that never got the best of me.
Overwatered with worry.
No peace of mind. No sunshine.
Giving them a proper burial.
Giving them sweet words.
Praying well wishes for the next life.
To my unfurled.
Grieving in my lostness.
Praying in it.
A PMW Post. Join on me on my journaling journey.
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Faith Underwood, Curator
Writer. Poet. Lover.
Childish Gambino - Me And Your Mama