Forgetting and remembering, and forgetting again.
loosing my way in all that has been,
the generations of anguish and misspent power,
bringing us to this fateful hour.
when everything matters,
but nothing is what it seems.
I am created from my dreams.
or is that nightmares?
plotted patterns remaking the world
in every played out power dynamic.
I may cling to the aching ages of wrongness,
the betrayals and lies, the subjugation
sublimation of all that is precious and fertile,
the time and time again
I lost my life or kin
to the hunger of another's ignorance or greed.
The role of victim
worn like a worthless coat,
hiding my true raiment,
providing no real warmth,
but too familiar to cast off.
I can carry the bitterness until it is all I know.
holding it close like a lover on a heaving ship.
But resentment is a jagged bomb,
potentizing until it explodes,
waiting to shred our hearts into shattered bits and fractured lenses.
Seeing only the pain blinds me.
Thoughts of hatred bind me.
make we want more want revenge want reclamation want justice want destruction want hiding want numbing want forgetting want forgetting want dying.
But I can no longer be for getting.
We are not for getting.
We are for giving.
for giving something new to our children,
for making a song of the discord,
for weaving a blanket of the shards,
to catch the babies coming into this healing world.
Nothing we have held onto will carry us to the clear dawn of our species' morning.
There is no more time to be for getting.
There may be countless reasons to be a victim,
but choose to let the light in.
choose the deep breath.
choose the open eyes
choose the bright morning
choose to be for giving.
giving it all away.
Image by Julie Interrante