thursday morning, i see the sun

I am climbing
Slowly
Ascending again
As I have done before
Exorcising myself from this darkness
One rung at a time
I am heaving myself
Some days no progress at all
Then this morning
With the light on the horizon
Beckoning as it does most days
I arose from bed
And left the telephone behind
Tell tale sign that I am not
Bound
Captive
To the promise of your call

I am trying
To receive the love of others
That bounty
With which I have been generously
Blessed
Which I somehow often
Miss
Flailing about waiting
Begging
Insisting
That only love from you will do

I am learning
Studying my role and
The women and men around me
How we all
Do or do not
Love
Examining this concept
From every angle
The lover, the loved, the unloved
Steeping myself
In its glory and anguish
In the heartfelt charity of friends seeking to please
In the bitter cold of the sheets against my skin
Each night in bed alone
I admit my humility
I accept my lesson
I attempt to wait only for the
Unfolding
The flowering
Of each event of the heart
On my way


(From the bottom of my heart, Ashaya, I thank you for your gracious love and generous help. I cannot express enough how you have aided in restoring me. That all midwives and friends should be honored by their loved ones as you have done for me is my wish; our world would be a kinder place, a refuge rather than a battlefield. I love you.)