I’m not turning away I’m trying to understand.
Allowing the muscles to spasm, pulling my shoulders back, head forward. I don’t fight my grief, I scream from deep inside my belly at what is lost, what is gone.
After my breath has been exhausted my visitor departs. I lay on my bed head pounding, eyes burning with bitter tears. I let the pain flow through me and embrace me. I embrace it in return until it dissipates and I understand.
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.