This month I found a fierce group of women who spur on one another, who support one another, who express themselves creatively. This post comes out of a prompt they offered. Here’s the link if you’d like to find out more: http://www.thestorysessions.com/subscribe/
pie crust rolled thin
I’m tempted to retreat from the day, close in on myself,
crawl back in bed,
detach my brain from my heart,
put a screen in front of my face to dull my mind.
Bad news on top of our new norm pushes me back
away from the resignation, the adaptation I thought I had achieved.
I would rather —
but we don’t get to ‘rather’ and we don’t get to escape, not really.
It comes back to us,
in tear-filled eyes at the grocery store for no. apparent. reason.
Even though it is scary and unwieldy,
I try to spread my arms wide,
unfold from my place crouched in fear and self-protection,
where I duck from embarrassment and weakness.
I stand up, stiff and tingling, vertigo around my edges, heart pounding in my ears.
This is real.
This is life.
Life contains in it death.
That I have avoided much of this type of pain is a miracle unto itself.
That I have good men in my life who modeled to me love, commitment and joy, this is a gift.
So I unfold and stand straight to absorb the full weight that could descend with their loss,
until I have to bend beneath the heaviness of the burden, though I willingly bear it
it is the weight of love.