metaphor

Navigating Emotional Pain in Relationships

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

Navigating Emotional Pain in Relationships

I built a bridge of patient, weary years,
A silent span of quiet, chosen words,
The mortar set with dried and vanished tears,
A testament to battles, not rewards.
My hands I offered, strong and open wide,
To hold the weight of your erratic sphere,
To stabilize the chaos you supplied,
Yet only met a storm, a boundless fear.
My effort was but dust upon the breeze,
Against the wind of your profound unease.

When your world tilts and loses all its grace,
The guttural cry of “holy hell” defines
The atmosphere of this abandoned place,
No longer haven, but a field of mines.
A sudden, unexpected fire starts,
Consuming fragile things that stood its test,
Leaving behind a jagged, broken heart.
With cruelty, you push me to the crest,
The edge of sanity, my failing might,
Expecting me to hold while you ignite.

I tried, desperately, to be the ground,
The immovable foundation in the shake.
I absorbed the shocks where steady peace was found,
Withstood the tremors for your troubled sake.
But now the space between us is a void,
A profound, echoing, desolate expanse,
Where kindness’s tender seed has been destroyed,
And understanding lost its saving chance.
Now only the choked vine of unyielding rage,
And your consuming need across this stage.

I’ve studied your map of pain for far too long,
Memorized the texture of each emotional scar,
Anticipating where the wound would throng,
An unwilling cartographer of your war.
But in that process, I forgot my name,
Eclipsed by roles I was compelled to fill:
Your punching bag, the target of your flame,
Your safe harbor, your shore against the chill.
But that era’s ended, clarity now bright,
I won’t be your refuse, your emotional blight.

The door to this shared history is heavy now,
Weighted by expectation and old despair,
But it is closed, with a final, solemn vow.
The work I poured is starkly laid out there—
Not as a failure of a loving mind,
But as an investment that was misguided, deep.
I failed no duty, I was not unkind,
I simply chose myself, the promises to keep
To me. I recognized the point of no return,
And in that closure, finally, I learn.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

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The Fearless Flight

/ Nancy Ann Creed / 2 Comments
graceful seagull gliding through blue sky
Photo by Robert So on Pexels.com

The silent prisons of our own mind,
Worry for the deeds we left behind,
The chances lost, the paths we feared to roam,
Our potential dormant, never brought home.
This anchor heavy, second-guessing’s sting,
Drags down the soul that was meant to sing.

To truly live, regret must be outrun,
A risk embraced beneath the morning sun.
The unknown holds the promise of our growth,
A fertile ground for a pledged oath.

Take the chance at greatness, a choice for all,
Be willing to reach, to answer the call.
See what reserves within your spirit lie,
Of strength and grace beneath the open sky.
Commit to the dream, take the fearless flight,
Forward with conviction, leaving behind the night.

Hesitation is the foe of every deed,
By fearing failure, planting doubt’s cold seed.
You’ll never know the heights you could attain,
The monuments you’d build through sun and rain.
The touch of courage, how it might inspire,
A beacon lit by your own brave fire.

Embrace the call: Take the chance once more,
See what you can do without a shore.
Take the challenge, soar upon the breeze,
Let past regrets dissolve with newfound ease.
Don’t look behind; the future lies ahead,
Just keep the onward path and be well-led.

Belief and grit define the way we go,
The goals you set, the success you will know.
Though failure whispers—part of learning’s art—
Do not let that dark shadow break your heart.
The glorious chance of victory is near,
For this bright hope, dispel all doubt and fear.

Stop postponing the life you wish to lead,
Write the unheard book, plant the needed seed.
Learn the unlearned dance, let rhythm take hold,
Sing out your heart, a story to unfold.
Let nothing hold you back—no fear, no scorn,
The time for your own greatness is this morn.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Weary Crown of Morning

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

aerial photography of city buildings during golden hour
Photo by Eric Goverde on Pexels.com

The jarring, insistent shriek,
An alarm clock’s metallic cry,
Assaults the fragile morning’s peace,
A painful echo in the sky
Of my dark skull. I groan, a sound
Instantly swallowed by the deep,
Heavy silence all around,
I try to meld back into sleep.

A cruel hand pulls, a rhythmic beat,
From sleep’s warm, velvet, soft embrace,
It snatches me, with sudden heat,
And leaves my heart against my face.
My eyes fly open, dark and blank,
Staring up at the ceiling’s shade,
My body, safe within the bank
Of blankets, a fortress I have made.

But now the cold kiss starts to creep,
A sharp, unwelcome morning chill,
That pricks the skin I cannot keep
Beneath the covers, lying still.
With weariness, I fight the day,
The first act: pull the fabric high,
To hide, to make the light away,
And plunge into a private sky.

No. It can’t possibly be now,
Time is a thief that steals the night,
I want to vanish, somehow,
From all the expectations of the light.
Just lie here, a statue, breathing low,
Letting my mind drift, free and wide,
Back to the quiet dreams I know,
A ghost the sheets completely hide.

This is my refuge, warm and deep,
A sanctuary I’ll not leave,
While outside, light and noises sleep.
I am a vessel that will receive
A torrent of chaotic thought,
The doubt, the list, the sudden spark,
In this brief silence, dearly bought,
Before the world steps from the dark.

But then, the quiet starts to fade,
A deep, weary settling down:
Alas, the rising must be made.
Each day, a loop, a weary crown.
I run a race that has no end,
Against the clock, against demands,
A weight that bends, and still must bend.
I shove the covers with both hands.

The only prize, the only true
Reprieve, is time, unscheduled, pure:
To take a day, a week or two,
With only my children, to be sure.
No emails, bosses, or cruel stress,
Just me and my kids, simple, slow,
Wrapped in the light of quietness.
That is the only finish line I know.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Wall Within

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

The Wall Within


A hundred hands may wave hello,
My circle stretches far and wide,
A glittering, expanding galaxy of faces.
I wear the badge of social glow,
A persona polished by years of practice,
With nowhere left for me to hide.

From all the laughter, chatter, speed—
The ceaseless, humming frequency
Of a busy, pleasant, surface life.
I move through it with practiced ease,
A master of the graceful pivot,
The knowing nod, the quick, witty reply.

I plant a seed of friendship in every brief encounter,
But plant no need, no urgent desire,
To share the fragile, intricate root of inner strife.
That soil remains untouched, protected
Beneath a carefully cultivated veneer.

I’m fluent in the easy grace,
The casual etiquette of the crowd,
The light exchange, the friendly art
Of keeping things buoyant and untroubled.
I hold my ground, keep pace for pace
With the energy swirling around me.

But with a discipline honed by instinct,
I guard the chambers of my heart.
They see the joy, a bright, unburdened thing;
They know the name, the accessible presence,
The quick advice, the ever-ready helping hand.

But do they know the private flame?
The solitary, almost sacred fire
That burns when the crowd disperses?
Do they comprehend the quiet wish I understand,
A silent vow whispered in the empty rooms?

This is a hidden wish for something more,
A hunger that the fleeting nature
Of nodding, quick hellos can never satisfy.
It is a desperate yearning to stand before an open door,
Not just ajar, but wide, welcoming the cold draft of honesty.

And let the chosen currents flow—
The true, deep rivers of thought and feeling.
It means taking the terrifying risk of being seen,
Truly and wholly, stripped of the social armor,
Embracing the profound fear of vulnerability.

It is the urgent, essential work
Of trying to bridge the gap that lies
Between the friend I am—the comfortable, reliable construct—
And the authentic soul I truly wish to be.

I long for souls with whom to build a sanctuary,
A trust that does not need the exhausting
Scaffolding of pretense. I search for the sacred space
To be fulfilled, not just busy, by sharing what I hold intense—
The deep convictions, the quiet sorrows, the complicated ecstasies.

These lie beneath the surface chatter.
I have the crowd, the sprawling, beautiful, demanding crowd,
Now I must dare the single, hardest act:
To drop the stone that shields the well.

To lower the defenses, to shatter
The carefully crafted stories I tell,
And let the few who truly care,
Those with the steady gaze and the listening heart,
See past the bright, easy narratives and witness the truth held within.
I want to trade the effortless multitude for the arduous, sustaining few.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd