It’s a new day. One not marred with emotional residue from years past. One with just a bit more distance between the reopening of a healing heart.
I’ve been supremely distracted. As if a dense fog crept into my midnight and swallowed my clarity. The things that were visible to me before became hidden and outstretched hands and bruised knees were all I had to show from making my way blindly. How do I get it all back?
I’m not sure if when it rains I cry or of when I cry it rains but that helps. A storm within myself the cleansing precipitation waters the very parts of me left starved and neglected. My face hot as desert sand, tears fall and there’s almost steam that rises as anger and hurt do a twisted rough tango. I keep egging myself to let it go, not even entirely sure what it is I’m still holding.
What I haven’t done in a long time was surrendered to stillness. Meditated and listened. Just listened. Without words or input. Without I’m sorry or even thank you. Stillness has been absent from my entire year as I’ve bent and shifted making room for surprise. Perhaps now is the time to sit.
It’s time to return to the river bank covered in lush green. To sit in white fabrics with the sun in my belly and the river coursing through the earth. The birds talk amongst themselves much more insistent than the voice I’m listening for. I’ve never noticed before the butterflies. Proof of change and a testament of patience. Not all transformation leaves ugly scars sometimes you get beautiful wings.
Yes, it’s time.