Beneath the Crust

I often wonder what layers of my soul

I still need to heal,

to shed,

to unravel

to become

whole and present,

To allow the meanderings

of my crushed crevices

to open,

to be engulfed by the flow.

To shine through and gush out

all the limericks of old and new.

I often wonder

what parts of me

I need to rediscover

to comprehend

the history of my wants,

silences,

candors

and abandonment,

Murky waters gushing past,

Deep emotions startle me,

and I become aghast,

At last, what was layered came anew,

Off, lest the crust become imbued,

With light, sunset, runes,

Saffronic sun crushed on the dunes.

Shanty roses, wild and free

Embrace and pinch the forgotten me.

Whatever flows would then return,

Roses are red and full of thorns,

Yet I am here, wandering anew,

about memories old and memories new.

Author’s Note: This poem came from a place of reflection. I was having a creamy espresso without any cream (usually I add a bit). It’s rare when I have a dark, creamy coffee mood. That’s when I knew the poem was meant for Black Coffee Poetry. I started to quietly question what parts of myself still need care, healing, or rediscovery. The poem isn’t dark per se, but it did trigger in me some murky waters stirring.

As I wrote it, I was thinking about how memories, both old and new, can shape us in gentle and sometimes painful ways. I felt I needed to include roses, because their thorns felt deeply fit to express how beauty and struggle often go hand in hand.

Have you ever found yourself wondering about your layers or searching for wholeness?

Thank you for reading.

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* I originally published this poem here.*

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Gabriela is passionate about tech, studying Modern Journalism at NYU, and mother of 3 littles. Curious, bookaholic, and travel addict. You could also buy me a coffee or a tea and/or sign up for my newsletter here.