Staying Outside the Lines

After over fifty years of staying inside the lines and being a perfectionist, I am embracing what it means to me to loosen up. To be free to write poetry without a format or structure, to paint with abandon mostly in bright colors, curves, and swirls, or to sketch mandalas that may not be symmetrical or well-thought out.

I am more vulnerable every day, putting myself out there and sharing my feelings and work. Am I doing it for myself or for others? Does it matter? I’m doing it.

I’d like to share a poem I wrote earlier this week—

Jagged

I expected my life to take a certain trajectory.

Literally certain.

Not unstable,

as it turns out.

I expected a slow, steady decline.

With age,

or with my recent illness

That I would dip

feel ill

but recover

and return to baseline.

Even wishful to make gains

It is not as expected.

It is not a smooth recovery.

It is jagged.

Rough

Ragged

Craggy

And barbed

I feel that I never recover 

and keep falling short,

and shorter still,

with each exacerbation

My body disappoints me.

I was always good to my body.

I wish it would return the favor.

It appears too much to ask.

I am tired.

I am not afraid to die,

but some days

I am afraid to live

like this.