Sunday, June 26, 2011


I've been avoiding this but the Muse will not have it. She demands I speak. No time for little dramas. No time for ignorance or pretend. No time for lies or dormant hurts. Yet, all must be raised and released.

When love becomes restrictive, then it is no longer love. I made it to the front of the line. When our eyes met, I saw that he had already received me. He poured into my cup and when I walked away, I saw that the cup had already been filled...with my tears. He laughed at me. No, not with me. But, at me.

My heart expanded beyond me, around me, filled every crack and crevice. But he could not see me. He does not see me, who and what I am. I speak but he does not hear. I reach for him, but he does not sense. I cry but he does not feel. It is hard to see a man who is covered under layers of debris and dirt, filth and darkness. I gave him my loyalty, my dedication, my admiration wanting nothing in return except for honesty, truth and beauty. Apparently, I had asked for too much.

He makes a fool of himself in front of the others. Behaves stupidly, cowardly, deceptively. I saw through all of that. I stood erect with my dress, a symbol of my honour but he wanted none of it. He wanted the small. I did not understand how he could want the meaningless and the insignificant. And so, with my hand, I grabbed hold of my foolish heart and placed it back within its chambers. Gently, I scolded it, told her this was not the way for he is undeserving. She acquiesced even though she did not understand.

With my hands, I rubbed my face, gently swept over my neck and breasts, along my stomach and settled upon my abdomen. With my head looking down, I could not believe the heaviness and dread one can feel in this realm. I see that I want to avoid it, to run from it, but it is no use. Because I am aware of this tendency, I stay still and frozen to experience this pain more, until it no longer consumes me, until I can see it for what it is and release it. There's so much to say, so much to make right but it is pointless. And with this realization, the hurt becomes larger. I am too weak for this. But Mary whispers and says, "No, that is untrue. You will transform this hurt until it becomes something else." I ask, "How much longer?" And she says, "You must be patient. All good things come to those who wait. But you must work on it now."

I knew this day would come, when I would have to choose. It was all over the cards. I pleaded with her. I asked if she was sure. She insisted and persisted until I could no longer ignore her. I asked why I couldn't have both. In her gentle way, she helped me see that was simply impossible. "One of them must go." I asked, "Why?" "Because, if you don't, you will eventually lose both." She added, "With sacrifice, I assure you, other gifts will come. You will see."

So, I take this pain and embrace it. I smother it with love and acceptance. What else am I supposed to do? If I do not acknowledge and appreciate it, I will become bitter. That I can not allow. It is not an option. This pain and I will become friends for a little while and she will teach me what I need to learn and then, with gratitude, I will let her go.

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