Poem Series: CHANGE

~Change~

Liz Fink-Davenport

I am allowed to change my mind. Mid thought. Mid life. You are too.

I am allowed to be not what I thought I would be. What I set out to be. What the world made of me. What heartache took from me.

I am allowed to roar in to the distance and receive the echo. Look in the mirror and accept the too harsh reflection. Push in to the dark and feel the cold fog densely defending. Touch a tender place and feel the wince. But...it's healed a bit.

I am allowed to redefine me. On a Wednesday at 2pm or on a Saturday at moon-past midnight. I can morph and change. I can adapt and mould. I am not a rigid thing. I am all the most wretched and base things done to my heart, all the promises unkept and the whispers not fulfilled. I am the hope of the words spilled in to me from that which I loved and then sliced from me. I am the timid approach of a child climbing too high in a tree. One branch more. And I could drop. A long drop. But I am also fire. And white hot lightening. And all things that set your hairs on end.

I am not going to keep seeing sunsets. I am going to look to sunrises. The peek of fire over the hill to tell me I have
Another chance
Another day
Another promise
Another warm fingertip over my lip
Another whispered word

I am allowed to change. Hell yes. But...my world....it doesn't have to. God. It can stay. Static. The world does not have to change its mind. Mid life. Mid thought. And, my loves, you can not do a damn thing about it.