Poem: Feeling

Feeling like the breath

is frozen inside of me

and how

the body then ,

statue like,

assumes the defensive position

of

hunched shoulders

rounded chest

tense jaw

tense thighs

tense hands and feet

tense everything

And in my mind

which

is both

simultaneously racing and rigid

there is a speck of light

trying to reach me

a speck of light

calling me into the present

calling me back to

the power of now

calling me back to

birdsong, trees rustling

the rhythmic whirl of the washing machine

calling me back to safety

to now

not then

calling me back to breathe

and in doing so to also cry

and grieve

and grieve

and grieve for all those years

those decades of unwept tears

not just mine

but everyone’s

- or so it feels -

to let out all the pain

suffering, wounds and harm

- whether intentional (some) or not (plenty) -

to forgive

others, but mostly myself

to find kindness

oh kindness, that balm, that tonic

that is not found in hedgerows

or in pharmacies

but found within

At the bottom of that deep dark well

where the light cannot reach

cannot - quite - reach

can - nearly, almost - reach

And so to let the breath return is not to fix, force, change, control

but to surrender

(in peace - which would be nice -

but probably will be ugly, unpleasant, unwanted)

But surrender

In its unexpected shape

Slowly

Softly

Returns me… home.