Hi, I’m Sierra Mazzucca. I want to welcome to my little corner of the internet—where words find their way through the heart’s tangled paths. This blog is home to poetry born from the quiet and loud moments of life. I write to give shape to what we often struggle to say—grief, love, healing, hope, faith, and the simple weight of everyday experience. Whether you’re navigating mental health challenges, processing loss, celebrating love, or searching for something deeper, I hope my words meet you where you are. Each poem is a reflection, a release, a reminder that you’re not alone. Thank you for being here.
I pray as you age, that I get to see every stage. Yes, it may be sad to witness the new wrinkles and grays, but to have you throughout the many different changes that await.To be there with you, no matter the newest sign of age. I guess with every new day the only bitter thing I can say is, that we near closer to a place where you will not get to see me go through those same stages of gray. I pray that as I near the end of my time, I am able to look back and remember all the moments we shared all the different stages between you and I. So, I will enjoy you when I don’t, and even more when I do. I’m just so blessed to have a resilient mother in this lifetime, who is as strong and brave like you. My mom,my first stage, the first heartbeat my ears heard play. I love you no matter how far distance says we are. What a beautiful gift to experience life and all it gives from entrance to exit. What a gift to experience time, what a present it is to be born, to live, to laugh, grow old and die.
Hey, would you care to chat? Actually, I think you should take a seat, and listen as a matter of fact.
Don’t take this too hard but you’re invasive, like English Ivy; smothering.
You are very ostentatious.
Seeking any eyes admiration.
You’re pretentious and that word could be found carved into your tooth’s cavity, by a craigslist dentist.
Probably how you started to speak your own language.
Guess it’s expected the Novocain has you singing notes of your testament, in Life’s chair found is your true confessions.
What has you trembling, feeling like now’s the time to confess your sins?
The end has always been subjective, but nonetheless expected.
He forgives , though sadly humans don’t forget, the wrongs onto them that were committed by wickedness.
Recently I learned that it wasn’t by a stranger who made me hurt, it was but a memory of one of my past characters.
That cuts.
So it’s onto getting through overcrowded unreliable thoughts from different versions that were shed, when we changed and evolved on, just a memory in our head.
Moments of you, from versions of few, where all the characters were played by no one other than you.
Lead was always within you.
That is what I just learned.
That everyone you meet, everyone you’ve hurt, they are just external parts of you existing still trying to gain worth.
Its an odd truth to observe, but it tickles your thoughts and makes you reconsider, being unkind to anyone as they are just a reflection of you from the past lives that lived within you.
Regret has found me knocking at its door again. Shame answered immediately as if it had been waiting for its old friend. Opening its door where the comfy couch is that I turn my thoughts over in exchange for inner peace and solace. There is a spot molded to my body where I take my seat. This time I have anger and it’s taking over me. It’s like my prefrontal cortex hired another conductor to lead. In my body, challenging my amygdala and triggering my hypothalamus to retreat. Losing its control, leaving me alone with only me, in charge of my big E’s. Now I am more uncomfortable than I was before therapy. And 49 more minutes before I leave is when I start to recognize a hormonal response, where the physical changes start to take over me. I’m a fighter so my prefrontal cortex reminds me and regulates all the Big E’s to manageable little E’s. Making my response to negative thoughts minimal and not self-depleting. STILL, I slip and sometimes forget how easy it is to get sucked back into it; the negative thought flow you became so familiar with. I don’t want to sit with this. Tired of these weekly couch sessions. Just want to be able to control emotions and let go of past transgressions without checking in to my next confession session. So my goal is set, no more emotional ding-dong ditch. I won’t knock on doors where shame will surely answer it. I am releasing regret and guilt daily so that one day I will wake up and be able to take a deep breath without feeling like I am suffocating. Until then I am again, signed in for my 1 pm session.
Yes, it is unequivocally true, your beauty will fade. Your skin once tight, will start to drape and hang in unexplainable ways. Discoloration will begin to splotch and take place, upon your once evenly toned body and newly lined face. Your vision will get blurrier with every new age. Your hair will thin, and color change. Your wrinkles will deepen with every smile that stays a little too long, forever imprinting its frame. Your memories will escape from any accessible place. It’s a slow death from a life full of moments you meticulously made, but inevitably forget. Your heart’s beat will lose rhythm, and sound slowly. In the end, we often regret because we were in such a hurry not to leave, not to age, not to gray. So focused on a temporary body, which we knew would expire one day. So yes, there will be change taking place. I like to imagine aging means we are that much closer to another energy state. So let it fade. Let the wrinkles and discoloration take place. Remember they are little reminders this body was never a permanent space.
36, and I’m grateful to be alive. Still in the back of my mind: Memento mori , “Remember that you will die”. So today I will do and not try. I will let go of the illusion that I can control every outcome because that’s the ill man’s delusional idea of how to manipulate time. Detach from the illusion of control. Just understand the future does not exist in this moment. Here and now is all we know. No matter how tightly you hold on, things will find a way to go . If everything was certain and nothing ever changed, life would be a stagnant body of water no Currents to shift its way. What a boring existence for the being’s part to play. We were already dying the day we were formed because time is not afraid. It existed before and will after the day the last human remains. So the celebration of another three hundred and sixty-five days has a feeling of accomplishment for another trip around the sun my skin sack has made. What is future but a mere wish, a hopeful gift , we should all be grateful if we get. I am alive now, but I remember we die, so I won’t waste breath on wishing for endless time. So here’s to 36, finally loving to be alive.
It’s a peculiar thing to stop and think that we are all just chasing some invisible trophy to the end of our earthly human occupancy.
Where completion of existence could be looked at as a loss or gain depending on who you’re asking.
Racing to a finish line, with said golden cities on the other side.
which later we find out doesn’t exist but it allowed us to cope with time.
We are programmed from infancy to believe that we are not complete until we have X, Y and Z.
and then only then will we be happy and free.
This is the grand illusion of a destination that creates a perpetual sense that we are always incomplete.
It grows a notion that there is always gonna be something missing.
We are so focused on the end that the present eludes us.
And this is the real death, when living while always trying to find something greater than this moment to access.
Like the faith we conveniently forget, even after we are woken up day after day and our lungs gifted with breath.
We are too blinded by the next step and too self-consumed to accept this is our fate.
Running through life like it’s an emergency.
Appreciate this time, not the minutes or days that are hopefully ahead or far behind.
No rush just letting it flow smoothly in Its own way.
No explanations, no justification needed as that is not a bridge but a cage to the deepest parts of your brain.
It’s a peculiar thing when you stop and think the only race in my world has been led by me.
There might be more to this life than the human eyes can see, but the wonderful thing about true faith, is the trusting in your decision choosing this body to live and participate.
Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site 