Her eyes open as the sun begins to peek over the horizon,
She closes them again with a painful sigh,
She lays quietly pondering what has become of her life,
What is there in the days between being born and the day she dies?
***
She struggles with the point of it all,
Trying to determine her real purpose, her goal,
Her days of productivity seem to have lessened,
What happened to the contract she wrote with her soul?
***
Once she was a daughter,
Loved? No, not really as it stands,
She promised to do better once she became a mother,
And she did her best, of this she understands.
***
She failed at her role of being his wife,
Mistakes made that she’ll take to her grave,
Seldom is she in the company of love,
In fact, loneliness has become her constant slave.
***
Yesterday highlighted her demotion from Mother,
As she received excuse after excuse,
Her heart now shattered, bruised and battered,
The toll taken from constant abuse.
***
She watches the sunrise in total awe,
Not understanding how beauty exists within such a harsh existence,
As she ponders hard for a reason, any reason, to rise,
It’s her strength that coaxes her with its persistence.
***
The hours stretch long as she sits alone,
Hundreds of minutes that feel the need to be filled,
The reason why is absent today,
Her motivation and reasoning killed.
***
As age sags over her mortal body,
Withering her reasoning and purpose in living,
Love the bane of her very existence,
The hours stretch out, long and unforgiving.
***
Her mind has become her enemy,
As she wanders the memories highlighting all she lost,
Her heart bruised, bloody and tortured,
Love the epitome of all it cost.
***
She awaits the darkening hours once more,
For some reason the lack of light dims the brutality,
The harkening time she wishes to expel,
Minutes closer to the end of her time and her life’s finality.
***
She sleeps in the horrendous scenery of her nightmares,
Still a relief from the daylight’s never ending hours,
And when she once more wakes to the sun rising,
She listens to her sighs of an existence that sours.
***
Groundhog Day of endless daylight and darkness,
As she exists in this endeavour called living,
Forgotten, cast aside as trash,
Full of regrets and age old misgiving.
***
She often thinks of her possible ending,
Will she be missed once it’s all too late?
Those who’ve forgotten her may then need to face their regrets,
Only then will they remember her and maybe they’ll appreciate.
***
She now accepts her life is one she needs to live alone,
Her lessons gifted to her by her decisions,
Her soul’s request outlined prior to her conception,
To fulfil her greatest purpose and her most important spiritual visions.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
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Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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