Right now, at this moment, I believe me:
loving, strong, brave,
centered, truthful,
safe, sensual, experiential,
forgiving and open.
But I often feel broken.
I am from the pushing and pulling of Daddy’s love,
and the ghost belief that love must be earned –
if I could just be more perfect –
only to be accused later of seducing him
only to be propositioned
only to hear three years after that
that he crossed that line with his stepdaughter.
I’m from a mom who fell for her best friend:
eggs on the screen door
slurs on my neighbors’ lips.
She’d throw dishes at my head in rage and exasperation
at a smart-assed bitch
and at a world too hateful
for our family.
I am from anger.
I’m from scars on my skin by my own
hands,
tracing the curves of my breasts and thighs,
nails scratching lines not to go out of…
I’m from rooftop ledges
and philosophy and coffee and cigarettes, talking me down
bringing me back to…
bruises:
bruises from lovers from whom I desired
those quick-to-purple reminders.
and bruises I hid when they were no longer
evidence of love, but of power;
when exposing them would guarantee
more bruises.
I have tried the simple sustenance of random fucks,
the sun setting all over me and
I tried a wedding at sunrise
with a marriage that ended at noon.
I confess. I’ve got some wrong information
Deep down in the marrow of me,
but I’m learning that brokenness
is where we all meet
when we know one another.
I’m learning
that it is through our wounds
that connections happen.
It is where that of God in you
visits that of God in me.
I speak my broken history
not to trigger or shock or boast or compete.
I tell my broken pieces
to the broken pieces in you
so that we might discover that place within us
which is Perfect,
here in our stories,
here in our connection,
here, in our healing.
Vulnerability spoke out loud
is a gift of trust
and a courageous act of love.
I want you to know
that love
is more significant than our shame
and that God is not too large
to find us here:
in the small, hurting
the marrow of our bones.
I want you to learn
what I have learned:
that our hearts will break
over and over
until they overflow with openness.
For poetry and more, visit Mecella.