My Name Is Not Mavis

A Reminder for the Fridge:

1.
You can’t see the bruises on my heart.
And I can’t see yours.
The old ones. The fresh ones.
The ones that never healed.
The ones we protect most.

2.
If we spend decades
In each other’s company,
We might have a glancing understanding
Of the injuries,
But we still fumble
With slippery fingers,
Less dexterous than we hoped,
Pressing hard on those bruises,
Quickening the familiar wary ache.

3.
I am sorry for that.
As perhaps you are?
I am sorry.
Especially to those
Who I love or did love most.

4.
I have forgiven
You and you and you.
As I hope you have forgiven me.
I have forgiven you and you and you
Even when I press my own bruises
As if to remind myself
Of my vulnerable precious heart
In this flimsy ribcage of mine.

5.
But, like you, this heart
Doggedly wants to love and be loved.
Despite the bruises. Yours and yours
And yours and mine.
So shall we proceed with care?
Remembering there might be bruises.
Doing our best
To hold each other with
Tender softness and
Gentle wisdom of the injury.

Just a reminder for the fridge.
About bruises and forgiveness and love.

Gentling

Hold the knotty past carefully
And well. As if it were your most
Precious possession.
Do not worry it night and day.
Your fingers fretting and tightening
The hurt as you try to understand
The complicated ins and outs.
Simply hold it. Softly.
And gently whisper, What a pleasure
It has been. What a work of art
You are. Unique and gorgeous
In your complexity. May you
See the stunning beauty
Of the past that created
This world of you.

Choose to Arrive

Choose a soft place
To rest your mind
Choose a brave, steady task
To honor your heart
Choose tender words
To heal your body
Live without fear
Of not measuring up
To the mark made
By an invisible hand
That isn’t even there
Stop squinting
And perseverating
About the details
Close your eyes
Open your arms
And choose to arrive

last night

we stood on the street corner
with candles and rageful faith
burning as we pulled on the edges
of all that isn’t right.
we are well beyond the worst
our humanness can afford.
but, we can’t lose our grit and hope,
we tell each other and ourselves
as we take the limp helplessness
and give it purpose
in the ways that fit us most.
we can stand together,
we tell each other,
at the edges of our fear,
and, as necessary,
we will heed the call
to leap into the fray
following the light
of hundreds who shone before us.

May we dance with a courage
Lighter than our burden
Of wisdom.