This is the third time
I’ve attempted to write this poem.
It just isn’t coming out
as I expected.
I guess this means I’m human,
and I guess it means I’m alive.
when I can ever be satisfied
with myself as I am,
life as it is;
when I can drop
the bs perfectionism bit,
and just relax already.
I spent the day in deep listening,
laid heart and soul bare
before daring wayfarers
who walk this path with me.
I danced with the trees,
looked up to the sun
reached out to the water
felt down to the earth
breathed in the wind
and out my fears.
I transformed from closed and scared
to fluid and light body
loving song through the forest
at top of lungs fearlessly.
To whomever says heaven
isn’t on earth:
I have something to share…
Today I came close.
Happy Birthday to ME
Happy Birthday to ME
to stop pitying myself
Happy Birthday to ME!
(It might take 42 or more years to reach adulthood. Not sure how adult I really am yet. Isn’t adulthood overrated?)
I love you.
I’m sorry for taking you for granted.
I know you’ve worked really hard
to keep me alive all these years.
I’m sorry for judging you as inadequate.
I love you.
I am so grateful for all of your sensations
and the wonderful way
all of your systems work together
to maintain radiant health.
I love how elegant you are,
how nimble, how graceful.
I love how you breathe,
how you walk,
how you climb and run and dance.
I love how you rest.
forgive me for all those times
I didn’t understand
and blamed you for my illness.
I know you are doing the best you can.
You are brave and noble
and I’m glad you’re mine.
I apologize for the tone of my last poem.
Actually, I don’t.
I have raging PMS
and the veil between 3D reality
and the spirit world is thinner
and everything I have been suppressing
in my act to be nice and please everyone
is now coming up of its own volition.
So really, I have no control over it.
And so, if you don’t like it,
you know exactly what you can do.
Now that I’ve been
“I love myself, I love myself,”
as much as possible,
I’ve been naturally drawn
to taking better care of my living space.
I’ve been decluttering the house
room by room,
taking trips to the local donation spots,
and each time I release something,
I can hear the house
sighing in relief,
If space is really what we need,
why do we spend some much time
to fill it with?
may we stop
just long enough
to take a breath,
look into one another’s eyes,
where we are.
Sorting through years of being together,
so many memories surfacing,
the sentimentality of it all.
When you left,
you took what you wanted
and left the rest,
an apt metaphor for our life together.
Now I’m left to sort through
the aftermath of our togetherness…alone.
Our children’s artwork, books, clothing, and toys,
bits of this and that,
odds and ends accumulated over the years…
You told me I didn’t want to move
because I have so much sh*t
that I just don’t want to deal
with sorting it and packing it up…
You were only partially correct.
For starters…a lot of this is OUR sh*t, sir,
which is what happens when two people
create two children and live together
for eight years.
A part of me doesn’t want to deal with it,
you are right—
but that’s just one part.
That’s the part you knew and criticized,
the one that was never good enough for you.
But I have other parts.
There’s one part who has been
only too glad to purge myself of you,
my body, my mind, my heart, my spirit,
my home…free from you.
There’s another part that is so strong
and so resilient, it has been working diligently
to release, release, release the old
in order to welcome the new.
Another part is really glad for the future
without you in it as my tormentor,
and who looks forward
to (one day when I’m ready)
stepping into the embrace
of a real man,
a man who sees me and loves me
for my power and strength,
my creativity and sensuality,
my generosity and compassion,
my ability to clearly articulate my thoughts and feelings,
my humor and my excitement about life.*
Yet another part is deeply calm and peaceful,
and maybe a little amused at this whole process.
Turns out, sir,
you didn’t know me.
You didn’t know me very much at all.
*Yes, if you had seen and appreciated any of these qualities, our story would have been very different. Your loss, buster. But namaste all the same. 🙏🏻🌈✨