Blinded By The Cracks Light

This isn’t a forever place
It’s just for Now
A place needed to rest
The agreeable and
Disagreeable thoughts

She mentioned
To teach how PTSD
Can be as an enemy
To someone unarmed
For war

It felt like someone shot
A child deeply buried in
Breaking her skin
Then tearing layers

For several days
Thousands of words
Were applied to paper
Like gauze to Pain

Did you feel it?

The waterbed spilled
Atop all experiences
Thought to be mourned
Reawakening sorrows
Believed dead in
Forgiving moss

Did they forgive themselves?

That’s why the moss never dried

Swimming above the
Waves means no
One drowned under
The weight

I grew up to surf and to teach others how to float. Forgiveness does not have a formulaic pattern everyone can take as a prescription. It is a form of Love that points at itself and everyone else simultaneously and says,

“I own this experience.” Period.

What we take home and do with it after that is ours to decide. It isn’t intended to be rehashed or undone, but sometimes it may sound that way to those who haven’t forgiven themselves.

The disarray, pain, looping thoughts, habits, and patterns, all lead back to an unattended burial. No one needs to be physically present to say goodbye, but we do need to be spiritually present to mourn. When we aren’t, our bodies and minds find ways to tell us we have lost something or suggest someone has taken it away, yet somewhere inside, we know it is a disconnection from ourselves that seeks mending.

In the waterbed, I cried out, “Drown me, please.”

It wasn’t the request of someone ready to die, but of someone unprepared to face their perceived level of pain.

We are all the same.

This sameness is the platform that Forgiveness stands on, even while perfecting its butterfly stroke. It stands on the Steps of Peace, not on the cracked sidewalk of Time Heals All Wounds.

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