/This is one of the poems I found from the year 2021, while gathering my writing. I decided to post them to document my growth.
The means of survival
Is the wealth you gather.
But when the tide of grief rolls in,
Washing away hope and happiness,
When it brings with it the isolation,
Stemming from rejection,
When you feel dejected,
A need for validation,
Sacrificing the person you once were,
For the one society craves.
The minted papers float away.
They do not form the foundation.
Only the curtain on which,
the reel of humanity plays.
It wraps around your soul like grapevines.
with the tendrils tightened.
It catches you in the mesh
A person bedazzled.
The tendrils tender,
With the salt of the tide,
And wash away like all worldly pride.
Only the iron will stands,
Keeping your back upright,
When the burdens bend it down.
The means to live,
To get by,
Resides inside you.
You have the gift of the gods.
Not the one money can offer you.
The means of survival,
Is not the wealth you gather.
But the grit you hold,
And the love you show.