Many experiences later, after lots of growing, happy moments, serious workaholism, milestones, lack of love, lots of love, more pain and grief, new fears unlocked, a pandemic, an endemic disappointment from more key people in my life, lots of persevering, flames, ashes and rebirths, I’m here again. In touch and in tune with inner me, reincarnated to Super (ha!) Maria Emma.
In the Middle of the Road, at the peak of my golden 40, I stand disillusioned, jaded, yet equally hopeful and inspired, taking everything in through experienced eyes and a fresh gaze. Everything seems equally frustrating and promising – newborn, like the shards of a past I chose to cherish and shatter, in order to rebuild my future.
The Time is Now – for what? My heart knows; it’s a pulse, a need, an innate, passionate inspiration unleashed – wild and untamed, in need of an outlet. Love is absent. My beloved writing is always there for me – a flow of ink on paper, or the symphony of exasperated clacking of my keyboard.
In the Middle of the Road
In the middle of the road, hear me roar
A declaration of strength
Creative mirth
Rebirth
From ashes and through flames
I retrace
my steps – a spring in them stemming from the depths
Of numerous little deaths and triumphs.
The Future is here – always a blend of the Past and a Blast
of emotions kept, old wounds, fresh winds that keep you swept; you might have wept – no birth is painless - the tear is always felt.
20 years ago the trip was fast, the road was slow; now there
are “twenty years to go
and twenty ways to know” – placebo baby, cause I forgot to take my meds
Rep, sex, context, the secret of success, we’re all a beautiful mess
Haunted by stress, god bless, FOMO success as you post under duress
They say hashtags are dead but so are #we
