Maturity
Sarah Royer-Stoll
Sometimes our past selves, hurt selves
Push themselves to the front of the line
And wait there until they find a voice
It is rarely useful and hardly accurate
But these facets of us want to be heard
They wait until a space clears and they act
We are often left to clean up the mess as
Our current selves, wiser with intention
Can speak with clarity and direction
We drove for hours not talking yesterday
Our hurt selves swirling with fear and sadness
Who would touch the other first?
When we finally broke the silence
Tears rushed hot, hurried to forgive
I love you as the whole ocean, vast and complete
Waves crash in, and call for me to stay
I see all of you, and it doesn’t scare me
Come rest awhile; my tide will reach to meet you