Thankful after Thanksgiving- loving in return

There are so many sizes
of steps
and so very many
choices

I remember choosing to not close off my heart
I was 16
compared to my hard as nails and mean as a snake grandmother
In the moment:
a horror
In retrospect:
a filthy crown gift more powerful than any princess
dream

There were insults
taken too far
and moon sight wishes
whispered over the phone
into the ear of a hopeful, lonely child

Steps don't seem like they should be so
hard

And yet...

I remember choosing
 to do the very things
they accused me of...
because, well, of course
And why not?

until it almost killed me

I remember realizing it was NOT
them that actually sent me down that path
but my choice
thus leaving the power
with me
to unchoose
what they force fed me

I remember years where I was desperate
to curl into the warm womb of someone's love
and then
I remember what it felt like
to do just that

For real.
With trust

I remember holding his hand
choosing to stand beside him
put my job in jeopardy
because this world is about love
and the best super power we have
is to honor it
to pause
and breathe
and focus ourselves in reverence
to love

I kissed his feet
and wiped his mouth coated in crusting white
dipping moisture onto the lips that kissed mine
and I never
left
his
side

But
I kept breathing
and stepping forward was stepping
away
and I didn't want any part of
those steps

I took them anyway

I fell
I crumbled to my knees over
and over
and others looked down on me
in pity
with no words
and walked away

I danced
and walked
and fell, trembling
screaming
scratching at the walls
unable to breathe
 and hyperventillating
all at once

And still
I stepped forward
a monumental feat

again
and again

time still stops
in the spinning cyclone of life
and today, I looked down at a tray
of rocks

and saw my mother, grandmother,
mother in law, my ancestors
whole and healed and softly glowing
a whisper of all the strength
I've ever needed
and He and I were in the center

seeing
Being seen
holding space

living into
each inch
of our space

and the soft tears
were the only strength
I've ever needed.

Because I remember
what it feels like
to be
loved

what I see when I close my eyes

in the image,
I am barefoot, standing
with my feet hip distance apart
my hands together in front of me curved
to form a bowl

I can feel the tears pouring softly, silent
steady rivulets
filling my open hands
with all my anxieties, my anger
but as they hit
like a magicians trick
they solidify
curve into each other
melding into smooth white feathers
until my hands are full
of baby doves

and with a breath sucked in
cool and refreshing
the tears slow
and I raise my hands close to my lips
and blow

the candle flame of all that
pain extinguished
as the doves' feathers rustle
and they fly away

the tears slow
drying
and now
my face lined with arroyos
I am able to smile
slightly

my arms drop to my sides
with fingers soft
wrists loose
and I can look inward

where the hole is

His hole

and finally, as if I had walked through
the waterfall
to find an open, fecund land as yet
un-farmed, perhaps, even, untouched
I know
what I could not even allow myself to feel

The hole his death made
will never be filled

was never meant to be filled.

In order to move into the lush land before me
I must hold that space
for him

Like sheet metal pounded and curved
There is work to be done
to strength my stride
To give stability to this hole, I must now acknowldege
that work...
a random hole weakens the integrity even in metal
so the work now
is to groove the seam surrounding the edges

It is not going away
and nothing will ever fill it

The next step is soul work
self work
learning to make the hole
a strong
accepted part of me
and not a thing
to fear