Sometimes life expects us to make confessionals. My list happens to be growing as I recollect events that I am sorry for. For instance, in the midst of my grief, shortly after learning my brother John had taken his life, I stole a plant. A flowering plant at a local grocery store. The reasoning being I had always walked the straight and narrow and while my anger was bubbling up, I lashed out in order to inflict hurt on the world I once loved. I struck back at the heart of existence.
Then again, what belongs to any of us?
I have no regrets in life. Not even when the outcome was less than favorable for me. I am better for the experience. The stretching. The climbing. Mostly the listening, even hearing the quiet. Witnessing the fear. The hiding.
The challenge for me was to share intimately with another, and i did so.
Connection to another, whether spiritual, intellectual or physical, gives and takes. When we take, we fill an empty place that was left ravaged by circumstance. When we give, we pour from the soul.
So i do not regret giving to another who needed something, more than i needed. The act of giving itself fills up. The thanks and smiles are more than enough for a girl who has learned to never regret the road.
And perhaps, since i am working on my patience, this is a test of true friendship. I will never purposely jump ship. Even when the tests are excruciating and i wish, pray, for death, I will remain as long as people decide i am worthy of them. To witness I AM a heartfelt existence and friend. 🤗 And if i end up pushing you aside, it is my fear, not your lack of love.
I have drowned twice. I was in third grade the first time.
The initial gasp appeared as if i was suffering but i slowly drifted,
as a feather in the air,
an angelic peace surrounded me down there.
A girlfriend’s brother brought me to the surface. Then i was 41.
i flailed for 8 years and still gasp for air.
many have tried to resuscitate
but i am brain dead.
i survive on driftwood.