I Am Enough Poems Novels & Stories

"I hope that will be enough. That I will be enough, at least for you." . . . ________________

"You are trying to be the perfect mother. And perfect does not exist." I looked at her. "But I need to be good enough. I need to be enough for her." "You are enough. You have always been enough. You just need to believe it." I went home that day and looked at Rose. She was sleeping in her crib. Her tiny chest rose and fell. "I am enough," I whispered. "I am enough for you." I felt the words settle in my chest. They felt true. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "How did it go?"

Her tears at that time falling for me felt like a huge universe gifted my way which I was ever ready as I could be to grasp tight. I was a fucking moron to hurt her time by time. I wanted her with me. Her heartbeats to synchronize with mine. She was it for me and I wanted myself to be it for her. But not anymore. \'''If I were a poet I would write sonnets Dedicating to your beauty with utmost honest! If I were a priest! I would preach your love with utmost sweet! But Alas! I'm none of the above In your world, I am just a wild beast!'''/

You should see hers. He reads it out, in a voice worthy of Television, as though he were standing before an audience. The poet can be poem-less. The writer, word-less And the warrior sword-less. With you, I am not lovel— "Okay, " I say "that's enough for one day.".

“You fixed me.” “No.” I run my index finger over my mouth. “I didn’t fix you. You’re fixing yourself. I’m just holding the pieces while you figure out what fits where.” I turn my head to look at her. “I have to be enough for you. Why am I not enough?” “You are.” She reaches for me again, and I slap her hand away. “No, I’m not. You keep showing me that I’m not. Nothing I do is good enough for you.”

God, what a liar love makes you willing to be. And for years, I repeated it to myself like a prayer. On nights when the silence between us grew too loud. On mornings when the ache of failure pressed on my womb. On afternoons when I stared at test results with shaking hands. I reminded myself: he doesn’t care. He said he doesn’t care. He has me. I am enough.

"That is my answer. I don't know if it's enough." From everywhere: it is enough. Exactly that.

“Maybe what you saw with the other girl is not the full story.” “But what if I am wrong about everything?” “What if you are right? You should talk to him. Talk for real. Say honest words.” “What if he does not feel the same as me?” “Then you will know for sure. But what if he is waiting for you to show it is okay?” He stood up. “If someone makes you feel you are not enough, they are not good for you. You are enough. You are more than enough.” His kind words made fresh tears come.

Imperfect and healing and real. And that was enough. That was more than enough. That was everything.

The poem is titled 'SPEAK TO YOURSELF' and it reads thus. ******************************************************* How often do you converse with yourself? How often do you speak to yourself? How often do you listen to yourself when no one is speaking? How often do you minister to yourself? How often do you truly embrace yourself, your pain, your flaws, your truth, your fears... SPEAK TO YOURSELF Say to yourself.... "Though I am shattered and bereaved and I might wither with the wind but like seeds, I can sprout out of the ground, new and better. "