A Poem about Self Love, Self Talk and Reconnection with Self by KareninaBy
I have had great responses in the past when I have shared poetry! This poem was sent to me from Karenina in response to my article about “self talk and self care”. While reading this poem it really helped me to understand and to keep in mind that Karenina is speaking to herself. Her older self is speaking to her younger self similar to some of the ways that I talk about “re-parenting” the self and re uniting with herself. Please share your thoughts with Karenina and I about this poem she has written. ~ Darlene
“All is lost, and it seems to haunt you, I know
You were always sure of yourself,
Now I see you broken and bitter
I hope we can patch it up together.
Chiquitita, tell me the truth
I’m the shoulder you can cry on,
You’re best friend,
I’m the one you must rely on.
Chiquitita, you will not cry
While the sun is still in the sky and shining above you
You’ll be dancing once again, and the pain will end
I will be the one to love you.” ~ “Chiquitita” by Abba
The Old Time-Traveler by Karenina
I am your elder and though I was born from you,
I am your real true mother and cannot but love you.
I know your soul, and I know your good intent.
I know how hard you try to understand the thoughts
or thoughtlessness of others who claim to love you.
I know how sincerely you strive to make yourself understood
by those whom you love, and
I know who of those you love, you love in vain, and who will never hear you.
I hear you and I understand.
I am your true sister and I am the essence of your brother.
I am the strengths of your father
And I am all the expression of your ancestors
Coming through you, coming to you.
I know when the tears have threatened
And I know when the tears will not come.
When you weep, you need not explain
When you rage in silent explosive frustration within,
I bear it with you.
When your eyes fill with tears from the stress of holding that anger,
I squeeze your hand, tight.
For I know what you know.
I know all of your reasons.
I know your sorrows true and deep, yes,
Even those you do not admit to yourself in utmost solitude.
For you only, I am the great fortune-knower.
I know how most things will turn out.
When you don’t know how you will make it through, I do.
When you wish to die to ease the pain, I know you will live on with strength.
When you are guilty, I know the true purity of you and the flaws.
And I, your guardian elder, have judged you and found you innocent,
So that you are free and need not hold yourself in a prison of false shame.
Free to go and grow, moving forward, wiser.
I know the depths of kindness within your true heart.
I wish I could tell you truly that it shines out too bright for others there to see it clearly.
I wish I could hold it for you untouched and tell you that you are never foolish for kindness.
As a pearl is made from the irritant in the oyster’s shell,
the more the oyster gives of itself the smoother it becomes, the less it hurts.
Thus it is the kindness you give out that is your priceless pearl.
I wish I could tell you why you are never alone when you feel so lonely in your world.
I wish I could answer, when you ask “Is there no one out there, no one like me?”
But my answer would be cold comfort. No. No one there like you.
Just here, me.
There are no true mirrors there, but there are hazed reflections that can shimmer and delight.
There are some worth loving, some worth trying to love.
This is the source of joy and it’s conjoined twin, sorrow.
I am your guardian, though I am no angel.
Although you cannot know me,
and although you sometimes dread me,
I know you better than you know yourself,
And I love you better too.
I murmur to you,
I warn in spirit to protect you.
I love you without expectation of love,
Fully truly deeply.
I am the knowing of your conscience,
And the surety of your future.
I know the fruits your tear-watered labors will bear,
Some diseased, bitter and full of worms, unfit to nourish, but ripe to wisdom.
Some ripening to sweet fullness, awaiting harvest, bringing short sweet seasons of joy.
And joy is wizening too.
I rejoice with your joy. I love your honest loves.
I share your triumphs and hold you steady there, willing you not to be over-modest,
Telling you to trust in your honest pride.
I tell you to trust your intuition, for it is my voice in your spirit’s ear.
I tell you honestly, you are not old, you are still so very young!
When you turn 21, when you turn 30, when you turn 40 and 50 and, yes 60 even.
For if life is brief, old is illusion.
I hold your memories, and you are among my own.
I take your sorrows in, and grieve with you.
I hold you in my heart, I bring you comfort, back there.
I hold you in my arms, I stroke your smooth and youthful brow,
Your tears are welcome upon my understanding breast
When you think you cry alone into your pillow.
My heart breaks for you so that yours can remain strong
Enough to carry you forward to me, here.
One day you will join me and the all of us there is.
We will catch up to she who walks a bit up ahead,
And we will, whole at last! alone, all-one,
Walk right out of time.
By Karenina (Kbroscoe)
(Published with Permission from Kbroscoe)
Please share your thoughts…
Related posts: Self Care and Nurturing; What is your self talk like??