"When she fell, she fell apart.
Cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated
as a child with sidewalk chalk
When she crashed, her clothes disintegrated and blew away
with winds that took all of her fair weather friends
When she looked around, her skin was spattered with ink
forming the words of a thousand voices
Echoes she even heard in her sleep:
'Whatever you say, is not right'
'Whatever you do, it is not enough'
'Your kindness is fake'
'Your pain is manipulative'
When she lay there on the ground
She dreamed of time machines and revenge
and a love that was really something
instead of the idea of something
When she finally rose she rose slowly
Avoiding old haunts and sidestepping shiny pennies
Wary of phone calls and promises,
Charmers, dandies, and get-love-quick schemes
When she stood, she stood with a desolate knowingness
Waded out into the dark, wild ocean up to her neck,
Bather in her brokenness
Said a prayer for each chink in the armor
she never knew she needed
Standing broad shouldered next to her
was a love that was really something,
and not just the idea of something.
When she turned to go home,
she heard the echoes of new words:
'May your heart remain breakable
But never by the same hand twice'
And even louder:
'without your past,
you could never have arrived-
so wondrously and brutally,
by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance
This past month, I have been close to loosing, or even full on lost, almost everything that I have ever loved. A relationship, a friend, a job, a place to live, my trust towards others, my own sanity. It was one thing after another, similar to a snowball effect. I fell apart and I watched as my life crumbled into pieces. I laid there, sulking in my own brokenness. The sadness I felt for myself soon turned into anger towards others and sudden ideas of revenge.
After weeks of this I decided to search my soul, looking for the strength to pick myself back up. But I never saw myself as strong, I've always been weak. After all, this is how I got here into and this mess.
With everything in me, I held my own hand, and rose slowly. As I rose, I quickly realized who I truly was, how much I was capable of. I soon became thankful for the pain as well as the past. Because without the past, I could have never arrived here....full of strength and pride for who I am.