I.
Goodbye family who cannot bear the weight of me.
Goodbye family whose deep pain my own frame cannot bear.
We hung on for so long to outdated expectations
to what we used to be
failing each other, sinking our intertwined souls
until it sickened, almost killed
our right-now selves.
Thank God for chocolate.
Goodbye family
It says something remarkable about what we used to be that we held on to old hopes and selves for so long
It says something more remarkable about what we are now that we chose to breathe deep and let go here
Goodbye
We’re finally free
to love what we still have more deeply
push away what no longer serves us
pull new love toward us
connect with other broken hearts better suited to heal our own.
II.
Hello love
I love the faces that show up to say “me too”
I love the earth that steadies my feet, the thick fuzzy socks that warm them
I love the bed, inviting judgement-free comfort zone, for the reminder
I love the cocoa for its short, sweet glimpse at days gone by
I love the power in the simplest of words now:
PJs rock. Fuck pants today.
I love the gathering power within.
I love the sky even more now
where thoughts float
among stars and clouds and
words drop in like neighbors
I love neighbors
who stop by unannounced
without words
like rockstars
I love that the sun never fails to warm my face when I turn toward her.
I love that the family still beside me, smiling, able to cry my tears,
has become more powerful than the sun.
Hello love
I’m so glad we set down the weight of our own expectations to race across the sand with the dog. Yes, I was wearing pajamas.
I’m so glad we said goodbye to the self causing pain to greet this new self approaching. This broken-hearted, love-rich, weeping bad ass. This never-not-broken goddess, sleepy and tireless, strong and vulnerable defender
of broken-hearted people and their worlds.
I’m so glad we all remember with body-deep clarity
what a loving family feels like.
I’m thrilled that none of us settles for less for ourselves and those we love.
I love that you have so much strength and fight left in you
that you’ll be just fine, free and rising, without me.
III.
Goodbye family, I love you
Thank you for teaching me to love
when I was little.
Thank you for learning with me
now that we’re grown
that we won’t settle for less
from anyone.
Thank you for pulling forth the unspoken so I could see it.
IV.
The girl you knew
Drowned
in a sea of frustration, half truths,
rage, fear, and assumptions.
She is dead.
Mourn her as long as you need to.
Then let her go.
V.
When you are ready, come
Come greet the woman
who steps toward you from the sea
laughing, wounded, new, content, whole.
Sacred truths shatter around her. She doesn’t.
Love never leaves her presence.
She’s a wellspring of love because love shows up in others, surrounds her, pours into her when she’s nearing empty. And she let’s it all in.
She loves messiness and openness. Leaves sand on the floor.
Dishes go unwashed for days sometimes.
She sleeps late. Friends learn to make their own breakfast.
She’s been seen walking barefoot in the sand, even in winter.
She pulls rainbows out of the darkest sky
from bed, in her pajamas, while crying.
She may be strange but she’s not a stranger.
She has her mother’s smiling eyes.
She may be fierce sometimes and there’s absolutely nothing to fear.
Her father’s strength.
You will find rest and welcome at her shore.
Bring comfy pajamas. Wash your own dishes. Forgive.
And you’ll be invited to return.
