My heart longs for a place of peace, a soft space to land.
A place where we hold hands and drink coffee on the porch.
A place with dinner on the table and slow dancing in the living room.
A place of routine and affection, folding laundry, doing dishes, and movies on the couch.
A place to fall asleep and wake in your arms.
My heart longs for a place that is ours and a forever together.
We are dying.
Parents’ hearts are broken and dripping with pain.
Again.
All because angry white men want their killing machines.
When will it end?
When will the needs of the many finally outweigh the wants of the few?
Our nation weeps.
Again.
Your thoughts and prayers will not dry tears, much less heal us.
You scream your “pro-life” rhetoric, but what about these babies? The ones who lived and breathed and laughed?
Where is the fervor you use to make laws to control women’s bodies under the guise of protecting life?
Where is your passion for changing laws that would actually save children?
The desperate need to keep the control and power in the hands of those who harm us is killing us.
We are in our most desperate hour.
In the middle of the night,
only the Moon and the Darkness know my heartache with such detail they could describe how I burn to the Sun.
And she would understand.
How sometimes I burn with passion, and sometimes I burn with pain.
The Moon and Darkness might be concerned that someday I will burn myself to ash, but the Sun knows.
The Sun knows the burning, with all the pain and passion, the heat and light so bright it cannot be touched.
The Sun understands that burning is how we know we are alive.
My heart is an adagio, played low and lonely as a cello piece.
Every emotion drawn, every note played.
A composition of life.
My heart burns as the bowing of the strings sing.
With each breath, I can feel the weight of Life.
The spinning broken pieces crash into one another.
Chaos in the wind.
With each heartbeat, I can feel the weight of Time.
Deep and methodical, or erratic and dancing.
Moments pressing on me.
If I sit still enough, I can feel the Stars fall. A cosmic arc, haloing above my head.
My eyes blink too slowly for the speed of Life around me.
Balanced on the edge of a rock in the middle of the Lake I look down and see a mirror of the Sky.
Am I falling or floating?
I leave my body at the height of prayer.
My soul connects with Spirit.
With an intake of breath, I touch down.
I open up and pull in the Earth.
Grounded once more, Life and Time move forward.
I leave pieces of myself scattered along the shore.
One of the things I love most about you is the look of amusement in your eyes and how you laugh, your soul knowing life is wild and you need to just hold on and enjoy it.
Your tears tell your story too.
You are an amazing testament to surviving the unexpected. And survive you do.
You are a force of love in this world.
Body battered and soul tired, you never stop giving.
I see your kindness. I see your efforts.
I see you care so much it can pain you.
I also see the difference you make.
You are unwavering in your loyalty.
You have been there with me inside my dark.
Your honesty and straightforward voice keep me grounded.
You don’t judge, but you see clearly and tell me what I need to hear. You pull me out of my victim role.
You love wide, you care unconditionally, and you are beautiful.
I see the Light pour out of your being. It is far-reaching in its glow.
I am grateful for you.
You are one of a kind and I would be lost without you.
Often I am alone.
And support in sobriety is important. Support in life is important.
Slaying demons during a pandemic is hard. Maintaining sobriety in isolation is harder.
This year has brought me one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever faced.
Getting sober isn’t pretty.
None of it is fun.
It hurts from day one.
This weekend I was reminded of real love and absolute grace.
When you go through life changes you find out fast who you can depend on. Who is there, and who shows up.
My circle is very small.
My friends, this beautiful collective of Wise Women, they are my family.
I am thankful.
They are the ones who have seen me through my traumas, my depressive episodes, my mental breaks, my heartache, and now they are holding me up in my sobriety.
I would not be here without them.
I read somewhere, “Friendship is finding somebody who’ll walk with you- even in the dark.”
That is our story. Our intertwined lives, our love, our children, our pain. It’s all there inside this circle. For the first time in a long time, I felt not only supported but loved with the purest energy.
I know there is still a lot of dark to walk, for all of us, but they remind me of the light.
And I am so grateful to be walking with these amazing women in the Sun.
I’ve seen you cry.
But so rarely for yourself.
Your empathy is vast. Your strength is immense.
Your heart is filled with love and understanding.
You are justice-centered and unendingly patient.
I know your life can be hard. I know it can be painful.
My dear friend, I see you. I know you.
You have held my hand during my deepest pain.
You are the only one who can always make me laugh, even during the very worst times of life.
Always.
You get me.
We have shared our lives. Our children are bound.
You have held me up when I couldn’t stand, knocked down by life or the bottle.
You have cleaned me up and dusted me off.
You push me forward and hold me close.
Your voice is familiar and comforting.
And you don’t judge me for my mothering tactic of fixing everything with candy.
You take the wild ride of your own life, the hardships, the pain, but the love too, and watch it spin on your turntable, “We Got the Beat” keeping time as you sing along and dance through it all.
You inspire me. And bring color into my world.
I cannot imagine my life without you.
Walking into the Wind, pieces of the old are blowing off me leaving only my core, stripped down and raw.
I surrender.
The quiet steady, beat of my heart, bloody and broken, keeps time as my soul churns.
It happens within.
Growth is silent.
Creation is quiet.
Change is heart work.
Transformation, like the birth of a Star, is striking and beautiful.
Stepping out of the wind, I see with new eyes and allow for grace.
Who the fuck do you think I am?
I was not raised from the center of the Universe, filled with Starfire and Magic to crumble before you.
You, who used and abused me. You, who have not treated me with the reverence and awe I deserve. You, who desecrated the holy places within me.
You have become background noise to the symphony that plays from my soul.
You did not drown me. I am the water.
Fluid and filled with Life.
You did not burn me. I am the fire.
White-hot, beautiful, and too intense for you to put out.
You did not bury me. I am the Earth.
Deep dark and sacred.
The blood that flows from between my legs soaks the ground as I walk, leaving in its wake Life and Love.
Like the millions of women before me, I blaze through this world holding the hands of my sisters and daughters, screaming and refusing to be silenced.
And like millions of women before me, I am the beginning of Life, the base of strength, holding up the world.
Because what beats in my chest is the center of the Universe.