Living in Discomfort

The loving aromas of baking bread and brewing cinnamon chai

Those things sure make me smile

And the warm, jovial embrace of tropical sunshine on a beach

Of course, I’ll stay a while

Many strive to find themselves at a point where these can be the norm

Nothing wrong, find your bliss

But to ask where I find my comfort leads to an obscure result

So, I will tell you this:

Dealing with things that I don’t like

I find fascinating

Since it means I’m still becoming and

Continuing

Onward into the unknown

Meandering as I go

Finding out new things and

Overcoming what was once a mountain

Returning safely to the ground to

Try to climb another hill

Now could I die on it, this next hill?

Perhaps

And what do we call that?

Mishaps

Now one could just let themselves fall on it

Collapse

Or let bygones be bygones and let time

Elapse

I spent many years finding ways to make myself feel safe

Because that is the natural thing to do in order to be

But as I curled away, the world continued to strafe

While in my shell protected, I was not content

The way of guarding myself felt like a death

And that death quickly felt palpable

I never wanted to take a breath

Uncomfortable

Uncomfortable

Forging something new

With challenges, fierce and formidable

In order to create something that I could pursue

I could finally let go of the idea of maintaining my comfort

Because I realized that if I’m experiencing discomfort, it means that

I’m alive

And I’m comfortable with that