Quarrel
quickly ignites
fueled by quarried mem’ries.
Queasy with fear, querulous, they
squirm with qualm beneath weight of status quo
finding themselves in quandary:
continue healing quest
or quell inner
quarrel?
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I am in the process of some very personal and difficult work encompassing the physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects of my life. As I am changing, relationship dynamics cannot help but change as well, be it with family or friends. Sometimes, when things appear particularly difficult, I think it would be so simple, so easy to just go back to "how I was" or "how it was". But I know I cannot. For I have had glimpses of the fruit of this labor. Even though this work is hard and fraught with fear, as long as I continue to grab the hand of God, allowing His will to be done, the healing will come. This poem is how doubt, ever cunning, can creep in stirring internal anxiety.
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