DiscoverPoetry

Waiting Spaces

By

Must read 🏆

A refreshing and colourful journey through prose that will warm your heart

Synopsis

We have all waited.

While searching for answers. Staying in places of rest and growth, or unsure of where to call home.

Waiting Spaces explores the feelings of waiting through poetical thought and spoken word.
Each poem is written as a letter to those who are in their own spaces of waiting.
Perhaps you will find one written to you.

The first thing I noticed from opening up the pdf version of this book was the length of the poems contained. Normally I prefer to read shorter, more condensed poetry. But in this case I found I enjoyed the longer hand text, the poems flowed so wonderfully and I found the authors ability to capture scenes and emotions in verse to be of a very enjoyable standard. It takes a food writer to be able to create images so artfully with the written word alone and I found myself appreciating this throughout reading this book. Not only does the book create detailed mental images but also stimulates strong emotions and that is the hallmark of good poetry for me.


The book is a collection of poems titled ‘to those who...’ and I found this to be a unique concept that I really enjoyed. Particularly as a majority of the subjects, I’m sure, are felt by most people at some point in their lives. I found the book to be really refreshing and a lovely colourful journey of internal reflection. The synopsis surmises this and ends with a ‘perhaps you will find one written to you’ and I think this is a lovely sentiment. Especially to think of the book as a series of letters, some of which will probably resonate with the majority of readers. I like to see books with a somewhat personalised touch and I feel like this book manages to encompass this into its pages.  


Contemporary poetry books like this, I believe, should be at the top of anybody’s to be read list. They have the ability to make us feel understood and appreciated, to help us move on from past traumas. They give us the ability to understand others and empathise with experiences beyond our scope. I would definitely recommend giving this book a read. 

Reviewed by

Books are one of my main passions and have been since I was a teenager. I‘Be completed two goodreads challenges so far with 125 books in 2018 and 200 books in 2019. I decided to start my blog and bookstagram to document my book journey and bring recommendations to others.

Synopsis

We have all waited.

While searching for answers. Staying in places of rest and growth, or unsure of where to call home.

Waiting Spaces explores the feelings of waiting through poetical thought and spoken word.
Each poem is written as a letter to those who are in their own spaces of waiting.
Perhaps you will find one written to you.

The longing for belonging

To the place I visited and where my heart stayed.

I miss the hot humid evenings of

walking and no fear and

laughter over everything.

You taught me to accept acceptance and to

reject rejection.

It’s a rare thing to find

people who are of the same mind and

who set you on fire more

than you were before they were in your life.

But eventually,

you have to leave.

They leave, you leave

and as you realize this

your soul starts to grieve.

Your heart weaves

fantasies and melodies and

half-true stories of what might have been…

because let’s face it.

It’s easier to dream than to

live in the moment.

It’s painfully easy to lose your focus.

It’s hard to remember that

life is formed of

the small sidewalk cracks that take you back to

​when you were two or

the familiar people who become so routine that it seems as though they are no longer needed.

Patterns repeated over and over lose

the colour that you used to see.

Don’t let them.

Let the repetition be

a part of the dance-

and still

when it seems to cage you in and the stage you’re in gives no room to breathe

allow your soul to break free.

Life was not made to stay the same,

from day to day,

from place to place.

But we forget to be brave.

You, you are allowed to make waves

right where you are.

Don’t aim for the stars, they’ll only burn you, and

words said in secret will stay and hurt you.

Don’t let them.

Breathe deep and release

the memories and you will see

this place can be made into paradise.







To the one choosing to worship in the dark.

i thought that

twilight came slowly, softly

small twinkling lights appearing,

searing blaze

silhouette standing, unfazed

and i supposed that, with twisted irony,

i

was

right.

the only thing i had failed to notice is that

the twilight had crept up

before my sight had let it sink into my mind that

the light had dimmed and the day had

d

i

e

d.

help me find my bearings; You’re

tearing me in different directions, one

that craves the brightness of day and one that seeks solace in the stars.

at Your discretion our paths are made so who

am i

to tell You that this light shouldn’t fade?

please,

as i dread this coming darkness

teach me to rejoice in new seasons of starlight.



To menial things.

New leaves

(breathe deep)

Blended and yet

easily seen.

Life givers and

common weeds.

Do not despise the menial things.





To cherished places and new seasons.

Bittersweet

sunset meets

the horizon and I realize

it’s time to move away.

Sunsets fade and so do memories

revisiting this place means remembering

not only the things that I wish I could forget but also

letting myself see the good.

I’m not sure which hurts worse

never seeing beauty or never forgetting it

never letting it wash over your soul and ease your tired mind or

lying awake every night

wish that you could go back.

They say that everything comes in time but the longer that you watch a sunset

the more its colours subtly blend and bend and

mend themselves from

one seamless skyline to another.

Soon you can’t tell them apart from each other.

It’s gone and we say

that this explosion of colour

has become less.

Less entrancing, more mess. Something that takes more steps

to find the allure and the

peace and the

rest.

Why do we expect big experiences to be the most gratifying?

Maybe

as this sunset fades

from beauty and fire to the end of the day

you’ll find

in deep hues of blue and small specks of light

it's bittersweet for old days to dim

but this time of night

has its own glory.




To the one who needs rest.

I’m trying

late at night

to listen to the sound of quiet. Of silence.

Let your shoulders fall and relax your jaw.

Don’t be afraid if today you see nothing at all that makes you proud to say “I did that, I achieved that, I fought for that because I believe that.”

Relish in that your heart is still beating, lungs expand and

you’re still breathing,

mind rest, worries fleeing

forget them all and

begin sleeping.




To the one who regrets.

Yes, there are times when you could have tried

or done

or said

or pulled the line

of a different thread

but these things do not define you.

Set all these worries behind you.




To the one unsure of where to call home.

Home is running barefoot through a forest path, yelling all the way in case there are bears.

There never are, but we enjoy the rush.

Home is calling friends at unnatural times because time zones don’t care who’s missing who.

Home is my grandma’s perfume seeping through the scarves she’s left behind, heartache to feel her touch like I feel the fabric I’m fingering and oh God, why is everyone so far away?

Home is yelps and screams because someone just lost a nerf war and SOMEONE is going to pay for it.

Home is the stinging wind on my skin as I half-stumble down a loch’s shore, processing, listening, unsure.

Home is salt in my mouth and my ears and chills all up my body and smiles on my face because yes,

we jumped in again and no,

we weren’t supposed to.

Home is watching the ground rise up towards you as the plane falls.

Home is my mother’s soft voice telling me to calm down,

late night chats with my dad

disorganized card games with my brothers and cries of “you cheated AGAIN”.

Home is people together, lifting their voices, one purpose, Abba we worship you.

Home is a journey.







To the one who feels distracted.

listening to you, abba

is like staring at the stars.

you can only see them shine bright

when you walk away from the other, closer lights

the ones that cloud your view and dim your sight.

nothing changes overnight.

stars will set and sun will rise and i may not have rested my eyes but

slowly, over time, i have learned.

i am learning. 



About the author

Acacia Mitchell is a teen from Canada who moved to Scotland in 2015. She has been published on the Rebelution, written for the stage, and is the author of Waiting Spaces, her first published collection. She has a passion for artistic expression and the way that it reflects the Creator. view profile

Published on August 31, 2020

Published by

6000 words

Genre: Poetry

Reviewed by

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