Learning to let the writing speak for itself without overexplaining.
This poem is a complete spill as I was throwing away my dried rose arrangement. It became a pure stream of consciousness reflection on how we bloom,wilt, and carry our lives proudly anyway.
Today’s poem has lived as an ongoing poem over the past couple of months.
I first saw a bamboo plant at my friend’s home, where I was invited for lunch. As I sat beside it, one of its leaves came to rest on my shoulder. The shift, the pause, the turns, seemed to place the plant and me in motion together.
Days after that encounter, the plant kept reconnecting through memory, gradually shaping the poem as if it were a much-needed conversation.
As a practitioner of energy healing and someone who works with words, nature shapes my journey in ways I continue to discover.
Grandparents are archetypes of wisdom and healing, the balance of masculine and feminine energies within us.
Like rivers and sky, they embody opposites: action and stillness, intellect and presence. Their wisdom flows through us, reminding us that true learning is both active and reflective.
Life is a cycle too, with flow and transformation as its resilient currents.
Remembering my grandparents with gratitude, in the quiet imprint of nature and spirit.