Sitting with my heart.
Life bangs me up sometimes. I get rocked about. Battered, bruised my vulnerable heart sometimes cries. Miraculously it survives.
Sadness softens when I sit with it now and then. The intensity of the pain goes down a tiny notch.
Rest deepens with reflection on all the love I received, smiles and hugs.
Death has no mastery.
When my mother’s cruelest cut was to say, “you disgust me.” life would become a battle against my nature with scripture and spirit my sword and shield. God would be my coping skill.
Slaying my worldly thoughts and desires day after day. Self-inflicted cuts upon my own heart and soul were praised and honored. Flagellating my curiosity until I no longer questioned.
Lovesickness forcefully coming through my dreams into reality. My cry came unbidden, deep and guttural at what I’d discovered. Love more potent than fear of disappointing and causing shame. I committed to an authentic, truthful self.
Reborn, no longer shackled, no longer chained.
Reborn outside my mother’s womb, I am no longer her child.
I am no longer a child.