Catching Dreams

What is there to write?
My grief? My pain?
My struggle to find myself?

Been asking myself for sometime now
Never really thought it was still in me
Poetry.

Yet like memories it is never lost
Merely replaced by yet another one
Much stronger, much recent
Built and matured by time
It remains.

Lodged in a safe corner of my mind
In the protected part of your spirit
Brought back to the surface by situations
Triggered by an etched experience
Freedom.

To once again express my entire soul
No sugar coatings, no pretenses
Held in the palm of one’s hand,
Scribbled for keeps
That as generations pass I can look back
No need for rhymes
So pure.

Form the heart
Mere legend to some
To me, they are my dream given life by words
Caught on paper.


I’ve been trying to get myself to write poetry again. Too much thought processes that once again I feel I am drowning. I was imprisoned by my own self. Convinced myself that all was normal though it wasn’t. All this while I had perfected that fake insincere smile, using it credibly each day. Little did I know, I was merely convincing myself I was okay and that I was doing the right thing. What I didn’t know was I was gradually loosing myself, my heart, my soul and my spirit. Bit by bit. Little by little. I was replacing it with the world view of what was normal. Pathetically trying to give the impression of being happy and contented. I was far from that. I was hungry for answers to the questions that have been flooding my mind.

Now as I take out my compass, I have made a determination to follow where the needle was pointing to. Toward my true north. I need a shift of paradigms. A cleansing of the spirit. A renewing of the soul. A change of heart.

I realize that I am a survivalist. that I should begin to put value in my experiences, because those are memories that no man or time can take away. That though I am influenced by the people around me, I make my own decisions. Guided by destiny yet made exciting by my own choices. That no one can ever hurt me unless I give them the right to do so.

I am not bitter. I embrace life and look forward to days and years to come. To be able to finally take the path I choose. To follow my dreams. Dwelling not in the pain of disappointments but rather in the lessons they give. The strength I will gain.

And when a time comes that I might cry, it will not be because I feel like a failure. We weep because we still have our souls intact. We are still capable of feeling. Of loving. That in each tear shed there is a hope that we will make the next day much better. I am no longer a coward. Courage is my creed. Our creed. Our battlecry. A strength I share with women and even men. Those that have been shaping their own destiny. To those who realize that survival is a choice. Carpe Diem…