The Blooming Hour
I felt a thousand times,
that I was behind.
That I was in a rush,
I looked at those ahead of me and
always felt I needed to catch up.
I thought if only I could become
this certain type of girl.
Or perhaps if only I could make a
permanent place for myself in this ever
changing world.
But every time I set my mind to a goal,
I’d get so close, only to once again fold.
I never became someone I thought I should be.
I never found a place that felt destined for me.
I became so familiar with beginning
that to end began to feel like
just a distant dream.
I pushed myself to the furthest lengths,
only to watch those ahead of me
further take the lead.
I never saw failure as a gift.
I only sat with my failure like
two crossed lovers
in a tryst.
Everyone told me that my time would come,
to just hold on,
but my doubt in myself only grew,
I would give up and
let my skies turn dark blue.
I was late.
I should have something to show by now.
Where was my proof?
Why did it seem that nothing was ever
working out?
Then one day,
after all my striving and trying,
I looked at those ahead of me and realized
that to myself
I’d been quietly lying.
Being young is to not know yet what you are.
To try and fail is your proof
that you are working towards
figuring it out.
Because every time you fail you realize
what is and isn’t you.
Every goal not achieved is one step closer
to your truth.
Finally, the world grew quiet.
After years of believing I needed to become
something else—
something I was not already,
I saw myself,
the girl in front of me,
and decided to try it.
To finally be me.
After the naivety of youth begins to fade,
and all is quiet,
and you’ve tried out all the different ways.
One night you go to bed,
no longer thinking of what you should,
or could’ve been.
And it is in this finite moment,
that The Blooming Hour begins.
What you’re meant to be
is what you’ve always been.
And you can finally bloom,
when you stop looking for proof
and start looking within.⋆❀˖
