The Girl Who Lives

 

 

 I am not the girl
who lives in the house
by the lake
who moved there after
driving through the night
in hurried anticipation,
who brought a backpack
full of hopes and fears,
then spent her nights
by the lake's edge in tears.

I am not the girl
who lives in the house
up on the hill,
looking out at the sunrise
every morning, full of hope
that maybe, just maybe
today will hold more
laughter than tears,
that she will finally rise
above her fears.

I am the girl
who lives in the cottage
down the lane,
surrounded by trees and flowers,
creating the life of her dreams,
moving, freely flowing,
in sync with her inner knowing,
who's taken the leap despite her tears,
dancing to the beat of her soul,
standing in the midst of her fears.

I am the girl who lives.