How much of life is about forgetting who we are and then building the courage to journey back to ourselves once again? How much of this is just “the cycle” that is meant to be broken? What if – we can embody ourselves, consistently?
Magical Apologies
Baby,
I’m sorry for the moments that I’ve yelled.
I need you to know – my tenderness is not gone.
It is buried beneath the rubble of destroying
everything I can no longer carry with me.
My shouts are my begging to be unearthed.
I beg of you to find the courage to reach for me.
I’m not asking you to grab a shield,
or even to ready the excavator. But in the moments
I can’t catch my breath – I need you to breathe for me.
Remind me that there is still life I can’t yet see
from where I’ve been buried but that it’s waiting, patiently.
I need the warmth to radiate from your body, penetrate the
cold, hard stones that I stood frozen and let be thrown at me.
I imagine you could melt them, like ice – and drown me in
the flooding of emotion that explodes from them.
When I empty my lungs and finally breathe again, I hope I inhale trust
that my magic can exist without threat of being stoned to death.
That my very breath can extinguish the fire before the torches near, ready
to defend without ever asking to harden me. I need the freedom
to move with the breeze. Ask, allow, offer… release.
My back’s been hurting lately. I imagine my wings are growing in
to finally set me free. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking I’m dying.
When flying offers you a chance to lift off the ground, shift your perspective –
it’s commonly found that people think they’re heading for heaven.
Baby, not every death means that we’re leaving. Sometimes birthing
more of who we were meant to be first comes with making the space needed.
So I need… a lot lately, honestly but – I’m mostly just asking for you to believe.
When you see a woman burned, it is not me but glimpses of the past surfacing.
I beg of you to find the trust in who you know me to be and whisper my name
like only your voice can guide me back home, returning me to my body.
I’m sorry I’ve been wandering off so often. I’ve been really set on finding
this spark I lost, somewhere along the way. Maybe if I make the right
turn – I’ll catch it, illuminate and then finally I’ll be someone worthy, again.
Honest to God, I am sorry for who I’ve been in the moments I forget who I am.
We all are… but how will anyone ever start fresh if we never find the courage
for forgiveness. Baby, I am sorry for who I’ve been but I am
so incredibly grateful for finding a hand to hold through the darkness.
A chest to lay against so I only ever have to hear heart when I feel
the need for beating. Arms to offer remembrance that we are meant
to be supported through all of this. Flaws to call attention to the fact
that there is beauty in everything imperfect. I hope you feel
it’s worth it. In the end, as everything is weighed and measured –
I hope each calculated moment fades into nothing until you’re left
with nothing but the truth. With every shout, I was fighting to return
to you. The truth – even when everything goes to shit… look around, it has
I will still choose you. Not to become, but to stand beside me as I do.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 