Those thoughts are not mine –

At least, not anymore –

Rising unbidden to wrap my soul

In envies, petty anger, vanities,

Toxic resentments…

Attributes wholly unholy

Are crushed beneath the weighty heel

Of conscience trained,

And broken tendrils evaporate

As fog at sunrise.

My decisive heart springs free

to drum its joyful beat.

I turn the page. I am renewed.

For those thoughts are not mine.

At least, not anymore.

Mother Hen

feature photo: Shutterstock

(Writing Prompt: DECISIONS, part of poetry 101 rehab– Thanks, Andy! Feel free to jump on the poetry wagon each Monday!)

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