My entire life


 & what a difference claiming ownership over herself a day can make. six months. a year. many—. who would have thought I’d be here (all the here’s, there’s, elsewheres. in all the ways one could be). I’m closing chapters. I’m checking off lessons learned. I’m finally learning things I should have ten years ago. I’ve hiked to the sites of bridges I’ve burned. I’m getting redo’s & reconfiguring my beliefs. Im learning how to family, how important that is. I’m realizing that the body ages, so does the heart. I used to think I wanted to live with “no regrets”; but I realize that’s an excuse to make bad decisions. I’m learning how to think things through: that it takes pause, pregnant with ache & shatter. I have been very lonely, the lights very dim. I’ve learned that people show their true colors when they feel most unseen; and, most people won’t look up past their knees. I wake up early, now. I practice eye contact, which is scary. It’s taken losing my (grand)Mother & my best friend within months of one another, shouldering that grief, feeling utterly orphaned,to see how short and sacred this life of ours truly is. How we have this one. *singular*. life. How all we have is one another. How this makes *so much* matter so little. I know now that communication is a bravery. Vulnerability is a kindness & a two way street. Love is a shield & a surrender, a vow to do better. Love lies. Love peels away. Love shows up. Love comes running. I’m trying to say: Love is a dichotomy; and I want the strength to hold it close. and hot. and ugly. But fire burns and it brightens, doesn’t it? And Love is a choice and an action, not an upswell or a song lyric. My heart has is a mind of its own & it is solely mine to own. It moves me and I am learning to steer course. I must become more responsible. I want to tell you that I can hold Love, now. And when I can, I will. This aging heart is precious cargo. It wants to remember what it has always believed: that the good that is meant to be— the one You deserve, my darling, will find its way Home to You, to me, eventually—