Category Archives: Poetry & Musings

Question for Thought: What’s Your Motivation?

question mark

Finding out what drives us is a very important step in being able to keep ourselves going. Sometimes we are propelled by sheer passion for our purpose and during those spells, productivity is a piece of cake. Then there are other times, when we’re not sure if we should bother. And if we do want to bother we struggle with the energy to follow through with what we know needs to be done. It is in those moments that we have to reconnect with our original purpose, the motivating factor behind our life’s work, and allow our devotion to our cause to push us to the finish line even when our legs feel like they won’t take another step. The big question is, What IS your motivation?

post-dramatic.

There is a grumbling.

Beneath the feet of the wandering tribes the earth trembles.

Tremors felt to the core of the soul.

So long disconnected from that place, so long ignored

Almost unrecognizable.

But there is something undeniable

Too dramatic to be ignored.

Not forgotten, but repressed – borne of post-traumatic stress.

Breaking out beneath the surface.

Time to face the great unrest.

~ CCB

change.

Today, the sky is different.

The clouds drift in a curious way.

My steps are the same, but the ground feels unfamiliar.

I wonder if there is something waiting for me.

Unidentifiable feelings fill the space around my heart.

Undefined thoughts skip about my mind.

Around me there is calm.

The kind that precedes the storm.

I have nothing with me, but my faith.

Whatever comes, this will be enough.

I do not fear not knowing.

Change is life.

youth.

It was under there the whole time.

I took it for dead, not looking past the wooden casing that symbolized

that its work had been done, its battle had been won. But not the war.

Maybe a part of me wanted it to be over, to lay it to rest.

I was exhausted and so was my youth.

But no sooner had I made peace with our last days together,

did the thunder clap a rhythm that brought us back to life

like a cosmic defibrillator.

It wasn’t over. There was still more to love. Still more to war.

I’ll mistake you for dead again, my youth.

I’ll believe the murmuring of the crowd and the mirror’s lies,

long enough to accept it as truth.

But you won’t let me.

For another hundred years tiny rocks will sneak into my sandals

as my calves ache and my thighs burn from the climb.

And you’ll tell me that I love it.

I’ll vehemently deny you, and bury you

and attempt to prove that I can’t take another step.

Until I am waking up to us dancing to that eternal rhythm,

telling you that I love it.

Grateful that you are always there.