Two months ago I turned 25. On most days I still feel 22 and I look up and ask myself what happened to the last three years.

I remember graduating college and feeling the post-grad excitement and also this slight sense of loss of direction no longer being lovingly prompted by teachers, professors, or peers. Life began in an entirely new form and what I imagined for myself then when I was 22, is not what I thought life would be now. In some ways, it is exactly as I’d hoped, in others, it is not. For that, I am grateful and believe with a vibrant kind of hope that with each passing year, there is something sweeter to behold.

Time is an intricate thing—it’s wholly unpredictable. Yet, moments wrapped in minutes, siloed in seconds is what we live for. We live for hope, for love, for joy mingled with beauty. This year, I pray to see beauty even in the most mundane of things. To take chances with my joy, because many things worth having require a willingness to risk my own comfortability for the sake of something filled with wonder. I choose to love because for some time I forgot how to do that and it left me feeling more empty than it did safe.

I haven’t posted a new poem in some time on my blog. After my social media break this past week, I thought about what I wanted to re-enter my space of the internet with. My choice landed upon this poem I wrote the day after my 25th birthday. I chuckle a little to myself because when I was 20 years old, 25 seemed so large in view of the four years that came before it.

Yet, here I am, with 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24 under my metaphorical belt, and I’m in awe of being 25. This newness feels exploratory, purposeful, and full of poems.

 

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Sincerely a poet,

Antavia

 

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