A Force of Life: A Poem

A Force of Life: A Poem

You know how it is when the moonlight glows more than the gold-filled sun and softly caresses your skin

It’s when the tide lowers to reveal beautiful pools of life hidden between entrenched boulders

It’s when you swim oceans in a day, that you come up gasping for air, wishing you’d have surfaced for a breather

It’s when you cover that same time and distance following the tide that you can catch your breath and keep your head above the water

It’s the small and steady strokes in time that will get you to the other side of your Olympic sized dream

It’s when you throw your head back and see a straight path behind you when you really swam a lifetime to get to where you are

It’s when gravity runs its course and you collapse under the weight of your own shoulders that you know it’s time to take a step back

It’s when nature is telling you to take it low but nurture is pushing you to rise back up

It’s when life’s ups and downs meet at a place called routine and you just tread through it to survive

But you know how it is when the moon’s gravity pulls again and you come down from where you were up in arms

It’s when the tide lowers that you get to plant your feet into the ground and wade the waters

It’s when you get a chance to withdraw that you can reset before the tide rises again

Broken Beauty

Broken Beauty

A poem by Esty Rosenfeld

She once perceived herself as a beauty

She used to play around and be drawn by the  endlessness of the ocean 

She waited there for her turn to leave the pier for her cue to leave the queue 

She wished to finally be cultivated enough to break free

But culture has shackled her hulk to the port, to the point of no return because she’s never actually left, never actually broken free 

And even if she did, she’s never managed to completely draw away, complete withdraw

like the way the high tides repeatedly slap against the face of the shore 

like the way the high tides can’t stop itself from and will always slap against the face of shore 

like the way the high tides will never cease to slap against the face of shore 

Like

Like when she wakes up in the morning and tries on a heaping pile of clothes till she finds one that finely hides her broadened view of herself

Like the way she looks in the mirror pinching and squeezing herself 

like a rag being wrung out

Like how she wastes her time trying to control her tone

Inhales deeply and grasps her waist all awhile gasping for air like the way the ocean peels back but only to then come crashing forward

She contorts her contoured face and ducks her cheeks to see if it’s hollowness is still as sunken as the titanic

She keeps seeing her bloated heart trying to leap out of her chest but it’s fat outweighs and drowns the muscle

And she hears her mind being malnourished by the heavy voices of her past

Telling her she does not have the right outlook

does not have the right frame of being 

That outlook is the thin version of outfits and good looks and they only mean her frame isn’t bare, 

That she isn’t mindful of what she’s consuming and she really isn’t

She isn’t mindful of what’s consuming her

They encourage her to tread and tow the fine line barefoot because a step with too much matter to it would not be refined, would not fall out of the narrow mould they have created for her

She cannot put her foot down because there’s something between her bones and the floor, because the floor of the ocean seems too far away

She knows her sound will be absorbed by the endlessness of the oceans that surround her

And they are just the tip of the iceberg that hit her 

She’s been hit hard because beneath the surface is the scattered fragments of her vast confidence of a bygone era

She’s drowning in the largesse of the sea 

Waving elegantly and slightly for help to all those who pass her by

But at least she is a mere skeleton of what she used to be

At least she is now perceived as a beauty

But she, she no longer knows how to look at herself and see her beauty

Short Dreams and Tall Fantasies

Short Dreams and Tall Fantasies

I like to dream not fantasize 
Dreams will take me far but fantasies shine bright like the stars
Stars that we reach for daily that are out of our arms length, out of our scope of vision 
I envision myself walking into a building full of strangers and already having good friends 
Or at least just friends on a bad day 
Most days, I want to learn how to play the piano 
But every time I try, I wind up walking away because my hands don’t play the sounds the song is meant to make My brother says I need to backtrack and start from the beginning 
Master one hand at a simple song and then move onto chords 
But I just want to lose myself in the music while my fingers glide gracefully 
Gracefully like when I try to dance 
My two left feet move in sync to their own rhythm 
My mother says to first learn how to walk painlessly again before I try to run, let alone dance 
So instead, I’ll just learn how to fly 
Except I don’t know where my wings are and I forgot how to put them on 
Maybe they were roasted by the last barbecue 
Where we all sat around philosophizing life 
Life is out to get me 
Get me to not jump the gun 
Because if you shoot for the stars 
They’ll blow up and explode 
And then 
hey’re gone 
So I’ll just climb the ladder of my dreams one rung at a time 
But I’ll fantasize a life where I was taller and would be able to take them two at a shot

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