Stories that we tell ourselves
come from childhood,
often not based on fact.
Hidden, so difficult to find and then shine a light on.
Our brain protecting us from things we fear-
Rejection and failure.
I had some notes written for a story I was writing on Medium, and when I read them back to myself, they seemed just like a poem. This is the result.
About the Creator
Ruth Stewart
I'm a grandmother of four amazing grandchildren and a mum of three fabulous children. I write poetry mainly, also prose and the odd story. I live in Scotland, UK. For a secret link to watch me read my favourite poems click right here!
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The Warrior of Shanduhar
The day my sister was stolen from us, I swore I would either bring her home or kill myself for having failed. It was a mostly cloudless day in Shanduhar. Bracing gusts had swept through the oasis on and off since mid-morning prayers. Aria and I had been feeding the camels. Our younger brother Eran was charged with cleaning out the rain barrel or face the back of Mother’s hand. I ran to his side to help before the precious remaining water tumbled into the sand rather than into Mother’s clay jar.
By Gale Martin6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
You write really good notes! Excellent poem Ruth bravo 👏🏽
Great accidental poem. Sometimes it happens and this is a lovely example. So truthful too!
Very true! Good one! 😊✨
Poems are just ideas put into words. Love this
Lovely!!! Loving it!!!💕💖
What an accidental gem this poem is 👏🏼