Forgiveness

there was always a piece missing

and I knew

in the very core of my soul

and it spoke to me in gentle whispers

and I would silence it

because I loved him

overlooking his inability to see me

love me, meet me

disregarding his need to always joke when it was inappropriate 

his need to always be right

to fight and fight before he could bring himself to apologize

only to appear vulnerable and strong just in the knick of time

right before I would lose all hope

right before I would walk away

right before I would have a chance to salvage a piece of my soul

he could only know love from the wound that had bound his heart 

like a concrete wall with a tiny crack to let the light through

cold, with a mask of sparkly cheer

and a pretense of understanding and emotion

like a silent snake that strikes at the last second

and leaves you wounded and shocked

you don't see it coming because it's so close to the ground

and blends into the vibration 

then there is one day,

when the pain of neglect is too much

and the soul is unrecognizable 

from all the stolen pieces, 

the veils are so layered

and the masks so deceptive

it demands a spark of courage

to hold it up to the contempt

that once resembled tenderness

and you can see through the veil

just enough for the flame of certainty

to thrust you into escape 

and all at once the distinct need to run

as fast as you can

is unmistakable and firm,

clutching any remnants of yourself that remain. 

and then the true examination begins

at first like a flower opening to the light  

and then turning in

as the threads of connection slowly sever and fuse, 

sever and fuse, sever and fuse... 

whilst the sadness and grief and confusion rise up and recede  

the pealing away of what was, of what was not and every tiny aspect in between

until there is more of a severing than a fusing

and the freedom to breathe and the freedom to truly see and the freedom to start to let go

seeing that he is like that
and you are like this
and the difference between the weak and the strong and the soulful and the soulless
are recognized for what they are -

without anguish, without confusion, without emotion, 

without eventually needing to understand more

without any more enquiry 

without the storm in your mind taking over

without the churning in your gut blinding you

without the space in your heart held tight with sorrow

now and then he is put in my path to determine my progress

and the feeling in my heart is my gauge

and the anguish

and confusion has diminished

replaced by disdain and indifference.

progress perhaps

but to reside in this place

is not my desire.

compassion, 

understanding 

remain somewhat mysterious, 

a foreign land I have yet to encounter fully,  

a mountain I have only climbed half way

what remains

in this loneliness

this silence of myself
a void.

grasping for the nourishment I gave

grasping for a thread of gratitude for our journey

for the clearing out 

for the emptying,

searching for the hand of comfort

of sustenance

replenishment

only when I recognize the reflection

and all the aspects of myself so buried within 

then the bud of the new

and the breath of acceptance

and the surrender to the course

and the remembering of beauty

he was

I am

we were

and are

pieces of the whole.