Oh January, how you’ve tested me.
Poked and prodded and tried to best me.
Rejection.
Loss.
Fear.
Sadness.
Fatigue.
Sickness.
Frustration.
All of it, inside me.
All of it, weakening me.
Or is it?
Maybe, just maybe, it’s giving me strength.
Maybe it’s making me better.
Pushing me further.
After all, never before have I been so
creatively and intuitively awake.
Maybe this is the storm,
that will clear my path.
Maybe the junk and the litter that I’d gathered last year
are now being blown away.
And so I may see it,
at times,
as a beating;
as a betrayal;
as a boisterous and unfair fight.
But really,
Maybe,
It is my guardian angel who is fighting
for me.
Fighting against the shit that I’d allowed into my life.
Trying,
Oh she’s trying,
to get me to pay attention to what really matters most.
Please, don’t give up on me.
Please, keep fighting,
and I will try to keep my eyes open whilst my heart
aches in this chrysalis.
S. R. Crawford 