March 19, 2026

She surrendered - Amelia Rutley

This weeks poem was submitted by Amelia Rutley. If you’re interested submit your poem to sebastian@lifepublishinggroup.com

She surrendered

To the slowness, to the simple

To the shuffling of priorities and the shifting of goalposts

To being at the bottom of the list with her partner.

And maybe the dog.

To scooters ridden down hallways

To catch ups at playgrounds and fragments of conversations

To sticky banana good morning kisses and soggy breadcrumbs underfoot

To crayon boxes beside dinner plates

To Disney soundtracks on repeat

To late nights, early mornings and 2am stumbles down hallways.

She surrendered.

Because to fight it would mean to be drowned by it.

And so she was swept up in the tides of change, of mess, of chaos, of love and of life.

And the sands shifted below her and the waves ebbed and flowed and crashed and calmed

around her.

Until one day she found she could stand again

In waters that felt new, but familiar at the same time.

She breathed in her surroundings - soaking in the sunlight, drinking in the details, stretching

into her space

And she lived.