Soft has moved in wearing fluffy slippers and refuses to leave. I remain unaccustomed to this spongy emotional self.
Hollowness was my closest companion for most of the early years.
In the driest place on Earth, where rootless mould has no purchase, between the last incident and then, the emptiness swallowed me.
I trusted no one, even myself.
Grief, I knew too clearly. The boomerang of trauma relived.
Unable to out run it or prize away the clawing fingers of childhood abuse, I chose the comfort of the dry.
In the firm flesh days of womanhood, I started to interrogate myself, whispering ‘how do you feel?’ A death star ‘fuck you’ glare and a single word echo.
I persisted, tapping at my temples, drilling for feeling, until God was let back in.
Time tumbled-weeded by, rocking the scales of struggle and gain.
And then your first-born innocence saved me.
Kicking back against the dryness, I toed the weak spot.
It crumbled dust-like and scattered on the wind.
The days of the long dry, are gone.
Forever more, at the slightest display of human kindness, I leak tears.
Like a busted suitcase, my private grief in jumbled exposure.
I cry for lost innocence. I cry for the power of hope. I cry in pain.
There are fleeting moments, when I yearn for the hollowness.
It is what it is.
Space cold. Pitch black.
It promises nothing and delivers the same.
Fear has carved a permanent scar, for cruelty is truly learned.
We do as we see, often bruised by what has been done to us, especially that which is done, so wrongfully.
I hold fast to the reins of forgiveness, forgiving myself first, then others.
Vanquishing swirling thoughts of deep shame, I remind my inconsequential self, that being human, means to learn, by trial and error.
I wear the crown of worthiness as my divine right.
I have loved some people too deeply. Some not enough. Some didn’t deserve my devotion and some I have short-changed.
Now I love only those that embrace the imperfect fragile me, and who act with loving kind intent. I place a firm boundary around the rest.
They are brumbies. Too wild, to truly trust.
I have let go.
Let go of the constructed ego, let go of competing for acceptance in a world that values coin and perishable things, for this illusion is the siren song of the shallow.
Peel back the silky film of truth about this too, too simple life.
Love is all that truly matters.
Seek it, give it, receive it. Repeat.
Seek it, give it, accept it. Repeat.
First and always first, love your imperfect self.
This is God’s gravity.