The Battle by Nancy Schatz Alton
All night my ears whistle, sing of the weather change
The rain slowly arrives: we’re back in the grey.
I can’t write eloquently about how I hoped to be better than myself.
Stress-free, sliding into fancy clothes, off to the party, humming.
No, I’m me.
Tired with the weight of winter. Hemmed in by my ancient brain.
Working the tools and coming up short.
I’m home again, hat on my head, away from the glitter.
Practicing quiet, watching my thoughts try to defeat me.
One scrabble word after another, I make peace with myself.
Call a truce and let the self-kindness begin.