If you’ve followed my story, you know that I’ve been dealing with health changes in the last year. And so, the trials commenced figuring out how to manage the pain while maintaining some sense of normalcy in my daily routines. In the beginning, I couldn’t walk long distances. I felt like this basic activity was taken away from me, which was tough to accept. I missed hiking. Well, in February, I had an epidural in my lower back (recommended treatment). Talk about miracles! So, recently, I went on ‘my first hike in the last year’ with my husband. I was able to hike at a moderate clip, and it felt so good to be on the trail again! We went to one of our favorite places, Deer Park, and of course, I had to take photos to document this incredible day where I hiked two miles without pain! I hope you enjoy the pics, and is there ever a time when Nature doesn’t inspire poetry? I don’t think so! These poems are written in Shadorma form!

Forest

Is it so
that some believe the
forest is
not alive?
We are all living creatures
communicating.

Fascination

Standing tall
with architecture
to showcase,
passersby
drop jaws in fascination –
one of nature’s gifts.

Swinging

Stretch the legs
pump with all our might
back and forth
swinging high
while California Bay peeks
with utter delight

Picnic Table memories

Two buddies
slightly underaged
ignore signs
(no malice)
they chug beer and chew the fat,
officer stops by.

Trees

A network
of fungi grows deep
in the roots,
Wood Wide Web
is the label given for
interconnection.

Thank you for joining us on this memorable hike! I’m still doing well, and it’s good to feel good!

Lastly, today is the final day to vote for Nomination of the Month at Spillwords Press! If you missed it, here is my prior post. “Resilience is Her Saving Grace” is my first fiction short story to be published at Spillwords, so this nomination really means a lot, but especially for the vital message it conveys regarding abusive relationships. I am including the story below if you haven’t read it.

Resilience is Her Saving Grace

The tempest held its vigil on the horizon but continued to fool her. Devotion in his eyes mesmerized her whole being, awakened every pulse in her body. Eyes that spoke the language of love where their future glowed like an apricot dawn. She bestowed her heart permission to be swept into his pools of blue…

And yet, every day she anticipates the sting from his hand – the palm or back, makes no difference. The sting smarts like hell, but her heart secures the brunt of the damage. The slaps begin early each morning if she doesn’t move fast enough to appease his caffeine demands. And it’s ironic that he chose ‘chalet’ for his cell alarm because the calming tone contrasts to his horrific demeanor. After he walks through the front door following a day’s work, if she so much as smiles unknowingly to his disliking, his hand finds her cheek, and she feels the strike of skin even before impact. 5 p.m. on the mantel clock makes her heart pound as though trying to make a getaway.

The house that once was a home mirrors a prison. Cameras keep their eyes on her as he watches from his downtown office. Claustrophobia slithers down her spine. She struggles to quell the panic attacks. And her cell is meant only to reach him or to answer his calls. He tracks her like a wild animal. The ring on her finger stole all contact from the outside world – lost like a loved one’s passing. Grieving has no end, but she doesn’t dare misbehave because the pain is relentless.

She recalls the beautiful moments when his hands would send tingles from her neck down the map of her body. What did I do wrong? consumed her every thought when he transformed from loving husband to beast. Thoughts that became so tangled, she couldn’t ruminate until the truth stared her in the face. Her cheeks grew hot like asphalt in August from the realization that the monster had always existed.

Before the perfect couple whispered those two celebrated words on that breezy afternoon, signifying “You are my forever person,” he wore charm impeccably like a well-pressed dress shirt – his kisses intoxicating as jasmine, gentle like summer rain – respect enfolded in each embrace. Then donning satin and lace, the solitaire sparkled like her heart and soul, but true personas can take cover behind convincing eyes and smiles.

How could she have missed the signs? She ponders over and over.

Time – revelations, decisions, and strategies always take time. Her defense, submission, though she loathes appearing weak, and the agony tests her strength. But the path will wend its way, leading her to a door for a fresh start, caressing her bruised face and her body, his punching bag.

Gazing out the window, she watches courage whirl among the cottony clouds. Around the corner, freedom waits with intensity, as though motioning for her to come closer, excited for her new, safe beginning. She witnesses a glimpse of hope in the pink daisy pushing through the crack in the sidewalk.

But biding her time means life, and staying alive is her objective. She must bleed toughly. Resilience is her saving grace and not meant to be scattered on the floor, anymore.
She must be smart to be free.

© Lauren Scott

If you haven’t voted yet, I’m asking for your support, and here is the link to cast your vote: https://spillwords.com/vote/

Thank you again to Dagmara and her team at Spillwords for allowing my writing to reach so many readers. I am grateful beyond words! Not to mention, standing beside the other fabulous nominees!
And a Huge Thanks to you who have already voted! Your support means the world to me!

Thanks so much for stopping by my neck of the woods, and I hope you enjoyed the beauty of nature, along with the significance of perseverance!

Love and hugs,
Lauren ❤️

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.
Voting & Spillwords images courtesy of Spillwords Press.