This was a day, not THAT day, but . . a day

Some days. Some days. Some days defy description
understanding.Some days scream for a re-wind button, or better yet, delete, or at the very least a re-booting.

One day you'll look back on a day like one of those days and you'll frown, you'll shudder, and you'll be thinking thank goodness there weren't more like that in the mix.

Some days: Finding Her Here*
I am becoming the woman I've wanted,
grey at the temples,
soft body, delighted,
cracked up by life
with a laugh that's known bitter
but, past it, got better,
knows she's a survivor--
that whatever comes,
she can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep
weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman I've longed for,
the motherly lover
with arms strong and tender,
the growing up daughter
who blushes surprises,
I am becoming full moons
and sunrises.

I find her becoming
this woman I've wanted,
who knows she'll encompass,
who knows she's sufficient,
knows where she's going
and travels with passion.
Who remembers she's precious,
but knows she's not scarce---
who knows she is plenty,
plenty to share.

is just what is needed to shake the crap of some days, renewing for the next, hoping, expecting better. Some days are indeed better and some others are simply, the best.

*Jayne Relaford Brown