On My Trip Back from Wildness

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Abstract

he welcome mat leaving outside all over the place I blossom on the doorstep</p><h2 id="5b14">Background context:</h2><p id="95f2">This poem is dedicated to my stoner days.</p><p id="23f3">From February 2017 to November 2021, I consumed a lot of weed, but I did it for spiritual purposes. The herb brought me to a place of mental clarity and inner research. Marijuana did things for me that I still have yet to reveal in writing. And I used it until the lessons were learned.</p><p id="eea5">When my mind and soul didn’t need it anymore, my body rejected it. It has been one of my most painful goodbyes to date. Especially because of the walks. One thing I always did high was go on long walks through nature.</p><p id="e419">I would leave home and spend hours among flowers and trees, taking the many photographs that I now share on Medium with you and writing poetry. Sometimes I would just under a tree… and breathe. All was well.</p><p id="d2d0">I also walked late at night (sometimes 2 a.m.).</p><p id="cb49">I know it’s dangerous, especially for a woman in NYC, but the night and its elements would literally be calling me. I’d be in the middle of doing something or no

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thing at all and feel this strong pull to go outside, with my playlist, and roam. I never regretted following that pull.</p><p id="04ec"><b>A few of those nights set me free.</b></p><p id="8474">The reasons why will remain sacred but it was those nights that saw me walking back home at dawn that penned this poem for me over the course of that time. I miss those days so much that sometimes I cry. And although I will miss those days for the rest of my life,</p><p id="f665">I will <i>always</i> have this poetry.</p><div id="e16a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://sincerelylc.medium.com/list/25597e4aa8df"> <div> <div> <h2>Spiritual Articles by Linda Sharp</h2> <div><h3>Edit description</h3></div> <div><p>sincerelylc.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*2fab7fd42492dbef5912dab53ef49f02e2ef5412.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="335b"><i>© Linda Sharp 2024. All Rights Reserved.</i></p></article></body>

Free verse poetry

you couldn’t stop me, I was beautiful tearing through the streets unfolding my elements on my trip back from wildness I walked on my own water softening my soil unearthing myself spreading heat my match was lit I ignited a passion it all went up in flames I couldn’t be tamed, I couldn’t keep the night off my skin or the stars from shooting out of my eyes I’ve got a forecast on my mind and midnight still stuck in my hair everything I see becomes a galaxy every step is a cloud, soothing sidewalks from the weight of my earthquake I shake off these inhibitions shedding flowers on the welcome mat leaving outside all over the place I blossom on the doorstep

Background context:

This poem is dedicated to my stoner days.

From February 2017 to November 2021, I consumed a lot of weed, but I did it for spiritual purposes. The herb brought me to a place of mental clarity and inner research. Marijuana did things for me that I still have yet to reveal in writing. And I used it until the lessons were learned.

When my mind and soul didn’t need it anymore, my body rejected it. It has been one of my most painful goodbyes to date. Especially because of the walks. One thing I always did high was go on long walks through nature.

I would leave home and spend hours among flowers and trees, taking the many photographs that I now share on Medium with you and writing poetry. Sometimes I would just under a tree… and breathe. All was well.

I also walked late at night (sometimes 2 a.m.).

I know it’s dangerous, especially for a woman in NYC, but the night and its elements would literally be calling me. I’d be in the middle of doing something or nothing at all and feel this strong pull to go outside, with my playlist, and roam. I never regretted following that pull.

A few of those nights set me free.

The reasons why will remain sacred but it was those nights that saw me walking back home at dawn that penned this poem for me over the course of that time. I miss those days so much that sometimes I cry. And although I will miss those days for the rest of my life,

I will always have this poetry.