My dear groups, you’ve always felt like home,
A place I didn’t choose but to which I was thrown,
Holding in the unknown
What it brings.
Like a true family with their clever minds,
Listening to my story, not always to my heart.
So it tries too hard
To be understood.
I’ve seen many of you in the years that have gone,
But you always bring out that fear of the storm,
Where I’m all alone,
Trying to hide.
Yet today I stand tall, face to face with that fear,
Not escaping discomfort, my will drives me to steer,
To reveal myself here
Without attack.
First times in one room were like fake Christmas Eve,
With unspoken frustration, anger clenched between teeth,
As to share what’s beneath
Wasn’t festive!
Now unpleasant triggers are like speechless teachers,
Mirroring my psyche’s forgotten cracked features.
I’m becoming richer
Through healing.
When I stopped to blame you, took on the chin what’s mine,
I was splashed with compassion, embraced your values’ spine,
And your heart touched mine;
Anger went to bed!
You’re like a good friend now, but it’s taken hard work
To truly receive you without trying to shirk
From your presence’s spark,
And I see you now.
I sometimes get anxious, though, about showing my joyful self,
I’m not sure you can take it outside that organised shelf
Of labels, where yourself
Attempts to make sense.
But life shows me we can form bonds through delight,
Leaving pain in the back seat, cherishing life’s light,
Letting go of the spite
That makes inner wrinkles.
And we can grow together to see warmer weather
In our souls… in our homes.
About the Author: Amritani Zuchniewicz
