Today's poem is the third poem in the Self Love three-part poem collection, sitting alongside, I am and Moments.
When I started facing up to the reality of losing parts of my body - and self - to breast cancer, I began to see myself in a much kinder way; I started to cultivate a tenderness and a respect for my body that I didn't have before. I feel differently in my body after my diagnosis, surgery and treatment. I value myself in a way I didn't before; I can see how I took myself for granted and critiqued my body, made judgments. I used to see my body as a separate entity to me. I started paying attention to the words I was letting flood my mind and my body. And I was shocked. Shocked at the negativity I had allowed to flood in, quietly and incessantly over the background noise of being busy. Recovering from three surgeries has left me sore - yes - but it also opened my eyes to the magic that is my body. The profound healing powers. I was in awe, and that awe made me reflect upon the language I was using to myself.
'You' is about the moment you realise that the way you talk to yourself has a direct and immediate impact upon your well-being, happiness and whole life! 'You' explores the tenderness you can start to cultivate for yourself; the realisation that everything you thought you needed, or longed for was nowhere near as important as the love and respect you can have for your own sweet self. You are your own buried treasure - the relationship with yourself will be the most profound relationship you will ever have in your life.
You
When will you see it was always you;
the longed for, buried deep treasure?
The one you woke up in the middle of the night for;
the one you threw a rope of words to;
hauled back into
your own loving arms. The one you whisper to at
daybreak and sunrise,
‘I see you; I love you. I’m proud of you.’
When will you see it was always you that you looked for, believed in –
wished upon? The one who knows your song and sings your name the loudest.
The one you cracked open to
eventually
start
being
you;
the one you gave your life to; the one who needs you the most;
the one who believes everything you say – your own words written in your own cells.
Speak with love.
The words you utter to your own sweet self
are the balm, the tonic and the magic.
They make you, you.
When will you see it was always you;
the longed for, buried deep treasure?
The one you woke up in the middle of the night for;
the one you threw a rope of words to;
hauled back into
your own loving arms. The one you whisper to at
daybreak and sunrise,
‘I see you; I love you. I’m proud of you.’
When will you see it was always you that you looked for, believed in –
wished upon? The one who knows your song and sings your name the loudest.
The one you cracked open to
eventually
start
being
you;
the one you gave your life to; the one who needs you the most;
the one who believes everything you say – your own words written in your own cells.
Speak with love.
The words you utter to your own sweet self
are the balm, the tonic and the magic.
They make you, you.