push my belongings under the bed.
of coins on the dusty dresser’s edge.
I wrote this poem a week ago and realise I’ve been grappling with these feelings since. Moving to a new country has been harder than I’ve let myself admit and despite my constant optimism and persistent positive action to carve out a space for myself here, I’ve had a week of feeling a bit insignificant in this big city that beguiled me here with such promise.
However, there is much to love about my new home and I can feel glad I was lured into making the change by my high expectations, even if the reality has proved tougher.
Today I feel grateful for love, plans, a growing sense of purpose and a growing ability to trust – in myself, the future and others.