Stitching Pieces

I have been protecting myself from pain

And love

For years now.

My armor has many layers

And facets.

The outer is the toughest

And most perplexing.

My sweetness and shyness

The layer I use

To ward off offenders.

Never getting too close,

No,

Not

Too

Close.

It’s a shield I wear to keep

Out those I hold closest.

And those I fear to let in.

It’s taken many forms,

An eating disorder,

Of many varieties,

And methods.

Anxiety,

Depression,

Exercise compulsion,

Marijuana fog,

Controlling

Tendencies.

It’s an inner panic,

And distrust in the person

Beaneath the layers.

A permeating fear

Of not belonging,

Being loved and

Supported.

My body never felt safe enough

To relax

Into

The space I

Didn’t allow.

Its exterior became the

Architecture to enclose

My heart,

Withholding love,

From myself

And other.

I have been running

For many years now,

My shoes laced and ready.

Running was never an option,

Just a default.

But my steps grow wearier

Each day.

I am tired.

My body is spent.

My spirit longs,

For rest.

Nourishing

Rest.

I’m not sure how many layers

There are.

I’m not even certain on

Where they begin.

These parts of me

Only wanted to protect me,

To this day,

They only want to protect me,

To keep me safe.

They think they are,

Keeping me safe.

But, I want them to know

Now

They’re hurting me,

They’ve been hurting me,

Unintentionally.

“I’m so sorry,”

They whisper.

“I’m

So

Sorry,”

I say.

“Please

Forgive

Me,”

We both

Whisper.

It’s a long awaited dialogue,

Between these pieces,

Of polarization

Inside me.

All I’ve ever wanted was

To feel whole.

Complete.

They too want that

Now,

I see.

They see

My tear stained cheeks.

How badly

My tears ache to pour

Like a river of regrets,

Grief.

Years of hidden pain,

Has been coming to

The surface,

Spilling out

In doses.

Maybe the grieving never ends.

Maybe,

Life is a grieving.

All the losses,

The deaths,

Real and minut.

I’m still grieving.

I’m still stitching,

The tattered pieces,

Back

Together

Now.

“Thank you,”

I whisper humbly.

“I love you,” I say,

Trembling slightly,

At the depth of feeling

This

Truth.

“I love you,”

They warmly, sweetly,

Like honey dripping into

And around my heart,

Say.

This.

This is the love

I’ve craved

All

My

Life.

My heart is mending.

Piece by broken piece.

Stitching,

Back the pieces

I’ve exiled.

“Welcome home,” I say.

Silence and warmth

Meets me

In the spaces

I’ve been trying to fill.

This

Is

Wholeness.

That

Is

Wholeness.

I am safe.

I

Am

Safe.

All

Is

Lost

Is

Found

Again.

I Am Enough

I want to tell you a thousand times over,
How enough you are.
How utterly and completely whole
You are.

Just
As
You
Are.

I know the lies you've told yourself.
The stories you've rehearsed,
Over in your head,
For they are my own.

Some say we lost ourselves long ago,
The emptiness became
The void to fill.
Never enough
To fill the hole
In our wholeness.

Maybe they were right,
The mystics and light seekers.
They knew the truth
Of who we are.
Who you are.
Who I am.

The truth of being enough
Now and always,
And all ways.
As we are.
As you are.
As I am.

I know it hurts
To uncover the lies
We've believed.
To peel away the layers
Of falsehood.

But freedom awaits.
Its beckoning call grows
Stronger.

Will we heed its call?
Can we rise above the old?
Rise above the fear?
And become who we are?

I want to tell you
I feel it too.
The fear,
The doubt,
The hopelessness,
And weariness.

Maybe there's another way,
In,
Not out.

Yes, into the darkness.
To see that black
Is a color too,
And a shade
Of all the colors we're made.

Not one brighter than the other.
Just enough,
As
You
Are.

I want you to know I'm trying too
To change the stories.
Convincing they are,
I know the ending.

Its time to rewrite the story,
Or maybe return to
The original one
Of who we are.
Who we've been.
All ways.

You are holy,
Beloved,
Sacred,
And profound.

This is the truth.
You are enough.
I am enough.

You
Are
Enough.

I
Am
Enough.