Mixed Media

I will be sharing some miscellaneous poetry and photos today.

On a mellow afternoon,
the sun dripping down our backs
like sweet tea
even the cat
is resting, and we
breathe in unison
The rise
and fall of your chest–
continuous, predictable
like a mountain
or a sunrise.
Realize this:
sleeping can be a simcha
in uncertain times.
Loving you
is tikkun olam.
We mend each other’s worlds.

The sky spits rain
on a muggy afternoon, and
I experience
all aspects of my body
without sound effects
or filters.

The sky spits rain
and I love you
more than physicality,
more than a body knows
how to articulate.

The sky spits ain
and I smell wet sidewalks,
cut grass.
The worms emerge from pavement,
lips, four lips,
converging as two hemispheres
becoming one world.

The sky spits rain,
y tu eres mi cielo,
my moon and my stars.

The sky spits rain
on a granite afternoon.
We cook,
and we eat,
and we rest, and
we love. And
like the caterpillar,
resigning herself to the cocoon,
I, too, hope someday
for gossamer wings.

My therapist recommended that I write a letter of forgiveness to myself. At first, I was convinced that this was stupid and wouldn’t help me, but I did it anyway. This is what I wrote:

Dear Katherine,

First, I want to tell you that I love you. I love you wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

I know you’re tired of hear it it, but hear it once more, and believe it this time: you are strong. You have done the hardest part of all over and over again. You survived.

The past is permanent and static. As you know. But it is also over. […] You do not have to divide your life into before and after. There is only now and the future.

You are courageous, whether you feel it or not. You are kind. You are a good person. You are loved and you are worthy of that love.

Your body is not the enemy. There is nothing wrong with your body. There is absolutely something wrong with the ones who treated you and your body like an object. But you are more than what you’ve been through. […]

It is time to stop wising ill upon the abusers. Yes, what they did to you was vile, perhaps even unforgivable. The only person you have to find a way to forgive is yourself. Those people are out of your life for good, but there is only one you, and it’s up to you to love her so much that she never has to put herself at risk like she did in the past again. You have so much energy and it is wasted on scumbags who, in all likelihood, haven’t thought of you in years.

I know you’ll never forget what you’ve been through. But with half of your mind in the past, and half worrying about how the past may affect the future, you’re missing out on a present that’s quite beautiful.

You emerged from the fire triumphantly. Stop insisting that you’re broken. You are healing, and healing can be quite a messy business. Do what yiou must to cultivate the garden of your heart. And grow.


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