A Prayer for You

This poem is dedicated to myself and to all of my readers. ❤

“The places where you have the biggest challenges in your life become the places where you have the most to give, if you do your inner work.” –Tracy McMillan

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I pray
that the pain of your today
becomes the pride of your tomorrow.
I pray
that the struggle of your today
becomes the strength of your tomorrow.
I pray
that the torment of your today
becomes the triumph of your tomorrow.

Compound

This poem is a response to/continuation of my last poem 🙂

Then again,
maybe I’d want
to be a mixture
in some ways
and a compound
in others.
I can’t deny
that love
often changes us
fundamentally;
and
depending on
the type of change,
that can be a really
beautiful
thing.

P.S. If there happen to be any grammar nerds reading this who are willing and able to help me…..
Assuming we’re following standard American English rules, how would you structure the last sentence of the poem in terms of commas and semicolons? I was pretty stumped there. 😀

Mixture

For some reason, I’ve been really into writing poems about relationships using science metaphors lately. This is made more interesting by the fact that I haven’t taken a science class since high school, and only vaguely remember many of the concepts we learned. Let’s hope my Google research of these concepts has not steered me wrong 😛

______________________________


If I ever decide
to commit
to a long-term
romantic partnership,
I’d want our relationship
to be a mixture,
not a compound.
I’d want us to
join together
while still retaining
our individual
properties.

Part of the Family

I finally see the mean inner voices for what they are:
part of the family.
I’m never going to eradicate them.
Fear,
self-doubt,
self-criticism,
and depression
will always be in the car
in the road trip of my life–
a month from now,
a year from now,
ten years from now.
And that’s okay.
They can be here–
as long as they know their place.
They sit in the back.
They sit shotgun.
They are not the driver.
I repeat:
They are not the driver.

*Credit where credit is due: this poem is a paraphrase of a part of Big Magic, by Elizabeth Gilbert.*