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POEMS

POEMS

Spirituality is not a cure for anger, sadness, grief, pain, doubt, suffering. It is an invitation. Come in to the house of sorrows. Stay. Feel. Look fear in the face. Do not run. Hold hands with loss. Do not turn away. Keep your eyes locked with the gaze of the empty abyss. Learn to love it all. Earn your freedom to love it all. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

So much of what I missed about you, loved about you was a myth woven by chemicals. I loved who you could have been, could be but weren’t, aren’t. Euphoria was the glue that bonded us. In love with our hallucinations, we wondered why it fell apart sober. But it never stood on its own. A hologram. A fairy tale. The person I’ve been missing all these years was never even real. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Sometimes, to love people, I must completely avoid them. Sometimes, to be strong, I must completely fall apart. Sometimes, to create, I must completely destroy. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

You're allowed to feel a desperate desire to experience life again and follow that desire into whichever rabbit hole it leads. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

On the streets, the poor are harmless. Government-fed. They aren't looking for money. They're looking for meaning. —4 am in Toronto. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I smell your expectations, like baking delicacies. How much easier to swallow them whole than practice self-awareness. Once in a while, I’ll have a bite of your version of reality. But I will not survive off these empty pleasures. Your approval is my treat. My own is my dinner. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

And each time I think I've exorcised you from the depths of my healing heart, You memories come stumbling in, rudely as always. For you, I would drop everything. I hate that I still do. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

When the armour lies disassembled on the floor, and that inner softness you thought was so fragile radiates unharmed and unharmable from within you, only then will you realize what it means to be strong. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

One day, people will stop calling me young and foolish. No one will say, "You've still got your whole life ahead of you." How will I feel on my deathbed? Will I know I tasted every fruit? Or will I stare at the empty plate having waited politely? Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I think I fear other people's judgment, but what I fear most is my own judgment masquerading as the thoughts I put into others' heads. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva

Now, when I rest, fatigue grips me, pulls me under into its warm, abstract, floating, lethargic flow. If I resist, it exhausts me. If I let go, I dream with my senses awake. I rest my heart. I rest my soul. I allow it. It's all part of nature's cycles. I will enjoy her spectacle. I will not fear this act because there is always one to follow. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Self-discovery is a double-edged sword. The more I listen, the more I speak. The more I give, the more I want. The more I try, the more I expect. Sometimes, I feel like my body is a spoiled brat expecting care and tenderness wherever, whenever. Maybe this was why I abandoned myself in the first place. I needed too much. Maybe that’s why we all do it. We’re not ready to be parents to a child who never grows up. It’s hard. But this time, I’m not leaving. I’m not walking out on myself anymore. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I still think about all our secrets, you know. All the ways we tried to make it special. The trees. The rings. The songs. Where did it all go? Why didn't you want to fix it with me? Why can't I say the right thing to make you forgive me? We have lost so many years already. Must we lose even more? Is my task now to cope with being just a memory? Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Last night, I tossed and turned, my head heavy with self-doubt. I woke up with the fever of criticism. Stuffed up with questions. I will rest this swollen mind. Let it heal. Gently feed it spoonfuls of reality Until I regain my ability to see things as they are. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The price of sparkly eyes full of wonder is dull eyes full of unanswered questions, strained eyes full of broken expectations. Real breeds real. The price of beauty is suffering. I am sometimes too willing to pay. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

How can the past be so haunting and so tempting at the same time? Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Waiting for you. My minutes, my hours, my thoughts waiting for you to be ready, to be calm, to find balance, to find peace, to make a decision, to break a pattern. Interrupting my song, waiting for you to sing your part, but you've forgotten that we're singing. You are somewhere else. And it isn't that I don't believe in you. And it isn't that I don't want you. But all this waiting has made me objectify you as an obstacle. And you are more than someone who makes me wait. And I am more than someone who keeps on waiting. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Learning to celebrate other people's victories set me free to have my own. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I think I finally understand now. You were disappointed that your dreams were not as easy to fulfill as you’d imagined. You equated success with talent. It was never about me. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The places I go to remember you are never the same. And neither are you. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Seek inspiration when it expires. Seek. Seek! Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

What if every spiritual and religious book is trying to say something important about where we should go, but they are all wrong about how to get there? Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Sometimes, I remember old stuffed animals or old comfy gym shorts and feel a pang of loss—where did they go? I don't remember losing them or letting them go. And then, slowly, hazy memories return. The loss I didn't feel back then becomes real. And I wonder if, sometimes, you feel that way about me. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I read somewhere once that getting over a relationship takes twice the time it lasted. Twice was four years ago. I stopped thinking of you every day, stopped wearing your name as a mask, celebrated the resting of the ghost. But now, today, here you are again, turning over tables in my mind, uprooting the garden, leaving behind a bouquet of roses and insecurities. My silent, secret muse. My taunting What If. I am homesick for a memory. Perhaps, a fantasy. I am homesick all the same. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The gentleness I thought I needed was what I most needed to give. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

And now, I am just a story you tell people to explain why you built those walls around you. It's been years since I smelled your skin. Years I've spent tearing my own walls down. Years I've spent missing you. You are always welcome back. And I will always be sorry. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I tried to not get disappointed. I tried to not get my hopes up, but I’m human. To give up hope is a kind of self-torture. Why do I try so hard to protect myself from pain? No more. I will not let disappointment teach me to stop hoping. I will not let loss teach me to stop loving. I will not let failure teach me to stop trying. I will not let fear teach me to stop living. I will be foolish. I will have faith. I will not learn my lesson. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Who was I fooling, telling my heart to quiet its beautiful song so I could march in the parade of conformity? My biggest fool was me. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The more I have practiced turning my traumas into lessons, the easier it's been to have faith that this can be done. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

And all along, the wounds I thought I had healed were curled up in the caves of my confidence waiting for nightfall. But now I know they’re not here to hurt me. They’re here to keep the taste of sorrow on the tip of my tongue. To remind me of my strength. To remind me of your pain. To keep me sane, to keep me real. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

There is sand everywhere. The price of the ocean. I'm slowly learning to leave it instead of cleaning obsessively. Sand in my bag (It'll get back in there anyway), sand on the floor (I started wearing sandals), sand in my hair, on my skin (until I go to bed, of course). Just like I'm trying to be permissive with uncertainty instead of seeking control. Doubt in my love life (we both keep changing), doubt in my work (I love too many things), doubt in my decisions (regret is a bad habit). I only let so many unknowns pile up in the corners of my mind before I grab the broom, before I need to know. But just like sand, doubt returns, gets all over everything. The price of self-awareness. The price of the creative life. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Maybe we gorged on control, you and I, the way some others gorge on sweets. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The day when my toes caressed the edge of existence wondering if what was beyond would be less painful, I learned to wonder at the abyss without yearning to jump in. On the day of nightmares, I learned to dream. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I wonder what my responsibility is in untwining the thoughts that slither and choke your peace. I wonder if it helps when I try to help. I wonder what the difference is between caring and smothering, Between giving space and being aloof, between nurturing and spoiling, between allowing and neglecting. I just don’t know. Maybe I never will. Maybe it is a daily balance. I will keep wondering. I will keep asking. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Some days, the anxiety wins. Some days, I waste away correcting what is imperfect only because I can’t cope with what is real. Some days, like today. But there is always tomorrow. A new start with new breath. So I forgive myself for today’s failings, if anything, because taking this judgment off my back leaves one less thing for me to deal with tomorrow. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Waves gently caressing the sand, leaving behind soft mirrors that reflect the light. This is what you are to me: the touch that makes me shine, the caress that makes me brave. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Weaving patterns of certainty under the guise of need, Pursuing productivity; beneath, afraid to bleed. Control, now there's a potent drug, addictive beyond words. I'm always trying to get unstuck; surrender, though it hurts. I broke through my routines today, Breathed through the shoulds and musts, made peace with the unknown today, let go and chose to trust. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Five years ago, my feet pounded the city streets, heart soaring, dreaming about the life I have now. But do I spend as many minutes now enjoying freedom as I used to spend yearning for it? Do I spend as much mental energy on worshipping my body as I used to spend hating it? Do I give as much importance to the moments of laughter as I used to give to the pain? The morals of yesterday’s chapters have been self-love, self-awareness, compassion. Now, the lesson is gratitude. Somehow, it is the most difficult of them all. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I grow empty giving and giving. I will not allow guilt to dissolve my boundaries. Safe from expectations, I grow roots. Wait for my fruits, friend. Wait for my fullness. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

To let it be what it is—a silent battle cry. A revolution. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

It wasn’t until I felt safe that I realized why I had been protecting myself. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

When nothing's familiar, what is left? When everything is strange, what is constant? Love and fear. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Finally, some space. Some room to breathe, to spread out my fears, get their claws out of my neck so I can see their tiny bodies made of shadows, made of time. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Time slips through my fingers. I use words to clamp open these fleeting moments, make them last. This is the only magic I know. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Something about picking up the pieces of myself alone has made me simultaneously kinder as much as harder. I know the itch as much as I know the triumph of scratching it. Helping another person is sometimes a kind of sabotage. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

From this perspective, everything seems possible. All my flaws lie exposed like ink on a page, obvious, inerasable, but I feel hope. This book is full, but I can write another. I can change. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

What is the difference between fear and intuition? Between progress and self-sabotage? Between breaking free and running away? I alternate between knowing the answers and doubting myself, forgetting the answers and reminding myself. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

You told me I was inspiring, beautiful, funny, but that was a glimmer, you know. A moment ago. That was me at my best. Today, I am someone else. And I feel simultaneously guilty and motivated by who you saw yesterday. The turmoil healed by a slow crescendo of acceptance. My worst, as much as my best, is a glimmer too. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I lose myself sometimes. But not with worry or concern, like I lose my keys. I lose myself slowly, the way sand in an hourglass pours soundlessly down, down, down. I begin to believe that my salvation lies in something other than these eyes I avoid sometimes. These eyes that shine like the universe. The ones that love me, heal me, need me. If I let them. If I look. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Those who cling to their cocoons will criticize how you use your wings. Let them. Keep flying. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Sometimes to love people, I must completely avoid them. Sometimes, to be strong, I must completely fall apart. Sometimes, to create, I must completely destroy. Quote by Vironika Tugaleva.

Who was I fooling, telling my heart to quiet its beautiful song so I could march in the parade of conformity? My biggest fool was me. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

I could not see beauty until I held hands with chaos in silence. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

The past has a way of becoming the future, if you don't let it go. Quote by Vironika Tugaleva.

It is not how many times we get lost, but how many times we seek the path, again and again, that determines our level of consciousness. Quote by Vironika Tugaleva.

I am strongest when I don't care about looking strong. When I face fear, doubt, pain. When I hold nothing back. Not even tears. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

Accept what was so you can embrace what is. Quote by Vironika Tugaleva.

Fly blindly, trust is full of magic. Let your wild voice guide the way. Quote by Vironika Tugaleva.

Love me only for my actions, and I will grow stressed. Love me only for my body, and I will grow paranoid. Love me only for my words, and I will grow bitter. Love me only for my soul, and I will grow. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

You are not the summary of your rehearsed poses. You are not a gently lifted eyebrow or a coy smile. You are beautiful and, most importantly, real. Poem by Vironika Tugaleva.

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