Patience
is hard to come by
When life is picking and clawing
When time is running faster
Than my my own racing heart
Knife points jump out of my skin,
intruders hiding inside me
Slicing away the softness
Leaving bone shards and steel
*
This is an unfinished beginning of a poem. I’m late posting for yesterday so I decided to go ahead and put this out there. I’ve been ruminating on patience, of which I have little. Almost every night I meditate on ways I can practice patience in my everyday life. Some days I’m better at it than others.
Charlotte Hamrick 
I can relate – to patience and its lack, and to getting an unfinished poem down on paper! Really like this, Charlotte, thank you!
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Thanks, Lynne. This is my daily struggle!
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I’d deem this a “complete” snapshot in time … subsequent snapshots might reveal variance, but this glimpse is soooo readily understood standing alone.
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Ah, thank you, Jazz! I think there’s more in me but, maybe not!
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I’m way too quick to anger, and I always wonder after if the impatience is not with others but really with myself. Knives…that’s just right. (K)
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