I remember that day…

I remember the way the branches
curled towards me that day,
the way they swayed to and fro.
It was something
beautifully unexpected,
a miracle of nature,
a divine curiosity.
And I remember standing there
in wide-eyed awe,
losing myself
to the sheer loveliness,
lost in a state
of childlike wonder.
Chills crept down my spine
in delightful little bits,
and goosebumps erupted
as a plethora
of tingling sensations
washed over me
from head to toe.
But the thrill
wasn’t meant to last,
and after one breathless sigh
I blinked,
and the exquisite array vanished.
That was when
the heaviness began to gather
at my feet,
and an unforeseen darkness
approached from a place
I’d never been.
As the winds altered
their direction,
everything changed.
And the wondrous splendor
of that unforgettable day
is still nowhere to be found.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo taken: July 10, 2020 in Milton, WI

Burying yesterdays

The afternoon settles
into a quiet calm.
But it’s here
in this noiseless state,
where I find myself interrupted
by restless winds.
Those unexpected currents
stir up buried memories
of regretful sighs
and uneasy bitter truths.
Then with trepidation
coursing through my veins,
a quiet declaration is made.
I move in silent determination,
carefully traversing
those frustrating fields,
where chaotic blooms
begin to mushroom in my mind.
At last taking control,
seizing those past reflections,
wrestling with the delirium
of all those unspoken things.
And finally after hours
of agonizing lamentations,
those lingering grievances
begin to crumble
inside an iron-gripped will.
All those listless thoughts
long in their coming,
turning to ash,
fluttering lifelessly to the ground,
tasting their very last words.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: Pixabay.com

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/

I once was…

I once was a child
Left broken and battered
Mostly locked away
As if I never really mattered

I once was a small girl
Always searching for a way
To be free from the shackles
That plagued me every day

I once was a young lady
Just wanting to belong
Only realizing my efforts
We’re pointless all along

I once was a grown woman
Looking for a hand to hold
But after a long, futile search
I discovered I’d become too old

I once was an old lady
Holding onto deep regret
Wishing the good Lord
Would just make me forget

And now I’m a crushed spirit
Dreaming of the past
The life I once knew
Just went by way too fast

If only I’d accepted
The life I’d been given
But instead I just looked down
Never really livin

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/autumn-hand-leaves-red-puddle-2917472/

Jonathan Michael was his name

If only I could’ve held him
Seen his lovely little face
But fate intervened
And he was lost
without a trace

I wonder what could’ve been
Our lives will never be the same
Some things we miss forever
And Jonathan Michael
was his name

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/love-clouds-romance-sky-romantic-1381420/

Writing prompt: Jonathan Michael was his name

Let’s leave the past, to live where it died.

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I keep trying
to forget the past.
To leave all the hurts
buried deep
on that old,
empty road.
The place where
I was deserted,
left choking on remorse.
But everybody
wants answers,
and nobody understands
that I can’t breathe.
And when I’m forced
back on that road,
I can’t heal
or even catch my breath.
The air over there
is stifling.
And so many
broken dreams
are still dangling
in the wind.
I can’t keep
reaching out,
grasping hopelessly
at those lifeless strands.
So please,
I’m begging you,
let’s just leave the past
to live where it died.
Or else this life
won’t be worth living
at all.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-walking-hike-trek-2569740/

The true treasures of life

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Every day I realize
More and more what I have
It isn’t my belongings, dusty on shelves
It isn’t the things I’ve accomplished
Or even the things I’ve mastered
But instead, It’s the people
And the experiences
The beauty of life itself
These are the things that matter
The things that are worth loving
The things I want to fight for
I hope I never lose sight
Of the true treasures of life

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/dog-girl-pet-animal-young-female-4286921/

Just thinking…

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I’m thinking about people today,
some of the ones I know
and some I don’t.
And I wonder why there are some,
who never seem to respond,
while others are just so willing
to give everything.
I have days when I can’t speak
because I feel like everything
will just come out wrong.
Do you ever have days like that?
Sometimes I just want
to be alone with my thoughts.
People take a lot out of me,
I often feel their emotions
weighing me down.

© 2019 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/girl-thoughtfulness-sadness-1266299/

There was nothing left to say

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There was nothing left to say,
at the end of that fateful day.

The next morning,
the sky parted as usual
as the birds all sang in unison.
Each one responding
without a trifle
of a pink puffy, cloudy care.

The day lazily drifted by
as the trees did their perennial thing,
each one dancing and swaying
to the sound of the honeybees,
all very eager and harmonious,
in their afternoon endeavors.

Even the flowers
dressed in white,
parading around in their newest,
frilly attire,
couldn’t have been,
more carefree.
Each one so unassuming,
in their leisure,
yet studious displays.

Because like always,
it was just another ordinary day.
Another glorious day
to be alive.
At least that was the case
for everyone, but her.

© 2019 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tree-dawn-bird-winter-weather-3189333/

I prevail

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As my eyes open
The light deflects my thoughts
Like insects they scurry away
Leaving a trail of unfinished reflections

This is why I write so much better
When I’m on the verge of dreaming
In darkness and seclusion
Is where most of my ideas are born

Just like the vast oceans
Teeming with animals we’ve never seen
So it is the same way with my mind
In deep, dark solitude ― I prevail

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/portrait-fantasy-fantasy-portrait-4430290/

 

Unrequited love

 

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I realized something today
I love too fiercely for this world.
Perhaps people think I’m disingenuous
when I pour out everything I feel.

And I wonder what I should do
about all the love I have to give.
If I could bottle it, I would.
Surely someone would want it then.

If only I could share my love
with those who really need it,
or pour love into people
who are suffering from the lack of.

The biggest problem is
love hurts when you try to hold it in.
And carrying it around inside of me
is a burden I’m no longer willing to bear.

Sometimes, I just wanna rip out my heart
and feed it to the wolves.
At least then I’d finally be free
from the urge to ever love again.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-one-window-abandoned-3111875/

The Dream

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Once lost on the cusp
of a whisper in time,
is now something cultivated,
formed and fashioned.

Evidence composed
of a sacred memory.

Sprinkled with the essence
of a divine creator.

Recorded as proof
that our existence
has never been limited
to the meager
constraints of this world.

But instead,
“The Dream,”
that wonderful, beautiful dream,
goes far beyond…

Far beyond anything
we could ever imagine.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-landscape-cave-sun-light-2945514/

One Unsympathetic Night

 

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There was a time, long long ago,
when grief consumed and controlled me.
Desperate thoughts and delusions
carpeted the walls of my mind.
And if memory serves me correctly,
it all began one unsympathetic night.

I was lost in empty thought.
Resting quietly,
against the old familiar comforts,
which only a saggy, depleted featherbed can give.

But powdered blue notions,
ran rampant that eve,
spinning a trap, right in front of my eyes.
And nothing could have prepared me
for the ambush; I was about to face.

Typically, I have always been on the offensive,
but that night, I was taken by complete surprise.
It seemed as if a tornado,
one filled with erratic and overemotional thoughts,
had somehow landed on top of me.

I felt my chest tighten,
surrounded by every last unfortunate thought I’d ever had.
Even the cuckoo down the hall
seemed to chime a little less enthusiastically
as I wrestled with my mind.

Every hope, wish, dream,
seemed to vanish into thin air.
I was left nauseated by midnight blue reflections,
and I laid there motionless,
desperately waiting for dawn to arrive.

At first light, I knew something was still terribly off.
I became temporarily crippled,
the fear of ignorance—all-consuming.
The overwhelming feelings,
ones comprised of dolor and distress,
clung to the recesses of my troubled heart.
I was quite literally suffocating,
in-between swells of uncertainty.

It wasn’t long before mama came looking for me.
I must’ve had the look of death itself,
as the light in her eyes
grew instantaneously dim.

Mama worked to make sense of my sickly state,
and I tried to give her all that remained of my spirit.
But my half-smile looked more like a frown,
and there was just no way of deflecting
all the worry situated in her gaze.

I knew right then and there;
mama had recognized my face as her very own.
It seemed the dispiritedness in our humble abode
had finally caused the undulating waters to reach me.

As I now reminisce,
recalling the details of that one unsympathetic night,
I realize just how long it’s taken for the floodwaters to recede.
And even though the waves have since quieted,
I am still not the same girl I once was.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sleep-bed-sheets-covers-comforter-839358/

 

The enemy’s weapon of choice

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I continue to waste minutes
days…
even years.

Why?
Why do I continue?
And yet here I sit.
Pondering…
More pondering…
Until I’m near to tears.

And all those things ―
the ones the enemy knows
will pierce my heart.

He sends them my way…

Again, why?
Why is this world allowed
to be ruled by such evil?

If I were a god,
I’d do away with all of it.
Does it give pleasure to the almighty,
to see us suffer?

Sharp objects like daggers,
of course they hurt.
But it’s the soft-edged blade,
the one that slips between my ribs,
the one I never even notice
until it’s too late.
This is the enemy’s weapon of choice,
the one that devastates my heart.
And the damage is irreparable.

 

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-beauty-floor-model-2589639/