Set down your weapons,Whatever they might be. Set down your pain. Set down your shame. Place on the earth the very urgency to become your success, your name, your story, or your ardent fear of it. Stop the fight, The Fighting for right, For Wrong, For any conclusion at all… Unclench the fists of battle. Release the tension of self-war. Receive the Grace before you, The Art Of Letting Go.
She said the glass would never shatterthat no matter how hot or how cold the tea, the cup would never break She sold me on the containership It’s forever construction It’s permanence in an impermanent world. She promised and she promised I bought and I purchased Un-breakable and forever. Day two the glass broke, next to me, as if on cue, almost in my hand Shards everywhere, slivers so small I cannot see them Yet they sheer at my fingertips and I bleed through the very promises I attempt to pick up There is no replacing it There is no wanting to replace and object of reliance This promise, this self Perceived permanence The blood stains my fingers As I clean up my belief in beliefs Words as real… Begin to dry and stain and heal.
All that I have and all that I am is all that made you run away.All that I have and all that I am is what you originally ran towards, the Arabian passion, great twisted, curled mane of unbridled want. My broken arrows that you asked to see, in our mutually selected practice of trust, I showed them to you. I showed you my broken because you asked me to trust. I had no idea you would pick them up, when I was not looking, and carry them in your own quiver. The weight of my truth held you down, back, under, veiled from your ability to see your separate hunt, purpose, and mission and the mystery of dream lit journey we were on together. Your absence of passion for me. I never knew. You never said. You would just chant, convince me…. That… let’s learn more, let’s keep going, keep talking, hunting for life, creativity, love, trust. I grew, I grew and felt braver at each crossroads, trips and falls, separately and together. You said you did too, but you were not aiming true, trusting me with your honest heart. You held me close, all the while wanting to go. With my wildly open soul-heart and willing spirit, I kept going. During our time, obstacle after obstacle grasped at my ankles to topple me over, attempting to beat me down. Each time I would come up and out swinging to take the next and important step, the one forward, fearlessly towards more rising demons, dragons, failures that slammed me down across the path I walked and when knocked down, wounded, desperately tear-stained, I would stand up straighter, stronger and wiser…. Though…. dropping broken arrows from battle behind me…. that you no doubt picked up and held in your own hands… Perhaps, each time, you felt the blows, as if they were your own, and felt the pain so keenly that you feared I was not enough, not enough of a ME to do what I proved I could be, ME. I never asked you to hold my pain, to carry me across narrow bridges, to slay the dragon, to be my hero to point me toward the rising sun. I am the sun I am lightness embodied. I am shadow. I am depth encased in wide-lidded blue eyes. I am light and shadow both. I am passion. I am what you seek. I am what you fear. I am what you will not let yourself feel. If perhaps you would have put your thoughts of holding me up, down, my broken arrows too, you could have opened your heart and touched it to mine to join the flames of passion that threatened to ignite your world into a glow, a burning fire of change and radical transformation. A new story. A great love. A heart fire we both could have tended, separately and together. Now, separately, I am me. Still me. Passion. Girl on Fire.
Grains of SandTo love is a sacred art of tending The beloved lives through the small, a grain of sand Love itself, the mover Every action, reaction, response shapes a beach just so… Each experience, each soft touch, each caress, or kiss resisted, affection withheld, turn of cheek adds a grain or strip one away Of course large storms of challenge will come and transform an entire line of ocean, but they will be rare and exotically life lessons But the art is to discover, uncover, remember one’s ability to give more sand than one takes. It is to love the simple, sacred art of the small, a grain of sand’s giving. an act on love’s behalf of tending.
FinallyI am not minimized by myself My thoughts or doubts about the size of my shell But now I sway my hips and the curve of my charm I no longer comb my hair or dry it straight I don’t bother to pull it back I let it fall into the curls into which it wants to cascade. I smile around the eye lines I have earned and the glory that I have learned to truly smile at all. In a world that had wanted nothing more than to change me, I have struck gold in the spaces of my inspiration, my courage, and my vulnerability. I have found a voice and she is my own. I have found a gaze and she is learning to see it all for what it is… A life unfolding… Still.