Feelings

When it pours, it pours—feelings, I mean.

A slip of the tongue brings forth sleepless nights—

more humiliation, less humbling.

The restless mind keeps on working,

repeating, rehearsing

things I should have said,

things I should say,

torturing the soul each day.

It pours and pours—feelings I long to let go.

Sleepless tonight; perhaps tomorrow will bring

more humility and less humiliation.

Broken and Mended

I know the faces
And remember certain places,
Some stories that were told,
And treasures that were found.

I recall words spoken—sometimes—
The emotions that were felt,
The paths I walked,
The road I travelled.

I remember voices and sounds,
The smells and the touch.
The times I was lost,
And the times I was found,
The times I was broken,
And the times I was mended.

Sweta