Trying…

We take the good with the bad, all the while just praying that the next thing that comes isn’t more of the stuff that keeps us awake at night. Our minds drift in and out of memories, some too hard to cling to for very long. Those are the recollections we try to leave behind, but they end up sitting like an undigestible pit, and oh, the ache they bring! I try only to remember the good, but oh, how the bad torments me so. The bad seems to weigh significantly more and is noticeably burdensome as it tugs at my side. The good is light and fluffy, like a soft, comfy pillow. And yet, it’s much easier to forget the good, as I’ve become so immersed in its feeling that I soon forget where it came from in the first place. But we mustn’t forget! Happiness and good days should be cherished and treasured without fail; the locket of bright and lovely things should be kept close to our hearts so we have it with us wherever we go. Today, I’m holding onto the good, trying to erase most of the bad. I may not get there, but at least I’m trying.

© 2025 Michelle Cook


Photo generated with AI

Words matter

Words will always matter more than anything else; whether they are written or said, they serve as an evidenced reminder that we are more than outer shells of flesh and bone. Some might even argue that many words are cliche, such as overused sentiments that leave us indifferent, yearning for more. But in the right conversation, words can be so intriguing. Words can be used to begin wars, but they can also absorb all the pain and frustration from a day we’d rather not remember. And to be able to harness such words and use them in the most perfect moment is profoundly important and immeasurably meaningful. I can’t think of a more useful form of communication, and yet we hardly ever think before we speak, slathering words all around like we don’t even care which ones we use. It takes a shrewd intellect to be able to sling the right words at the right time. It’s a skill we take our entire lives to learn. Writers practice the craft daily with paper and pen, persistence and precision, guiding every stroke. But what about the regular bloke who never hones his expressions? Should he be blamed for his inconsistency and inarticulateness? As writers, I think we have a great responsibility to teach, guide, show, and tell; explaining the very nature behind our chosen words is of the utmost importance. Those concerned with words will always have wisdom welling up inside them because a writer is also a reader with a huge appetite, catching every last crumb on the tip of their tongue. Those written words, read so carefully, often turn into ideas that will one day bleed from a page of their own. It is a life lesson to be had and, eventually, a brilliant mind to behold; reading and writing will never get old.

© 2025 Michelle Cook


Photo generated with AI

The point of no return

I think we all reach a point
A place of exhaustion
A time of misunderstanding
A feeling of not being heard
The scrapping of knees on concrete
Life becomes too much to bear
So we alter our direction
Scrambling for the door
The one we hope leads to peace
I think I’m at that point
And I’m not looking back
I need to find some place
That takes me far away
Miles from this point of discontent
This place of unworthiness
This time of hurting
This feeling of hopelessness
I can’t keep bleeding
for the rest of my life
At some point
it all has to end

© 2024 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/ai-generated-girl-space-flowers-8210734/

To be something

Like the wind
I come and go
And where I’ll end up
Not even I know

I try my best
To show who I am
But even those closest
Can’t understand

I often wonder
About things I should do
But lack of encouragement
Leaves me feeling blue

I feel like the whole world
Is expecting me to fall
But deep in my heart
I’m giving it my all

I’m no competitor
I’ve just never been
But I want to live my life
And be something in the end

© 2024 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/dandelion-wild-flower-7854275/

Turbulent tranquility

There she was, umbrella in hand, floating down towards the edge of a gentle stream.  At times she’d been like a whirling dervish, full of boundless energy and chaotic vigor.  And yet, at the same time, there were other occasions where the current would carry her over long, tranquil airstreams.  

She’d glide along over the endless fields, absorbing the grandeur of the picturesque valleys, which all looked more like patchwork quilts than anything else.  Then suddenly, she’d hit an air pocket and be frolicking away again, like a frenzied feather on an urgent mission.

Once touching down, she gasped, as crisp waters from a melodious little brook jarred her breezy state of mind.  Now, wide awake, she looked down at the icy waters lapping at her bare feet and wondered how she’d come to find herself in such a fantastic place.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


*This brief reflection is based on a dream I had last year.  It was the kind of dream that one never wants to wake from.  The kind that leaves your heart soaring and your mind enraptured by a carefree spirit.  I smile every time I think back on that lovely dream.  I just wanted to explore further and see where all those hills and valleys would take me.  To get lost in a dream is often such an awe-inspiring experience.  I can only hope this year will be filled with more visions like this.

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/woman-girl-model-umbrella-parasol-3795636/