Author: Focal Nomad

Interesting how a song, a note

On a chord can strike me in a

Way that in the middle of getting

Things done I’m right back to this

Place of pushing through the tears

To try and write so I can purge and

Then get back to work.

 

I tell myself I’m determined

I’m determined to make this work

Because what I’m most afraid of

Is regret that I’ll find out that I

Was wrong this whole time.

 

So I’ll keep pushing thorugh all of

The pain your love has brought up

In me. I’ll keep taking it and releasing

It because the pain was all ready there

And now it’s just illuminated.

I knew there was something hidden

Laying in the dark, and now your darkness

Has come to light to and we’re so scared

By what we see.

 

Is this what love does?

I keep wondering if this is necessary to

Truly get to the extent of my evolution

Or maybe I’m just torturing myself and

There’s no need for any of this stuff surface.

 

I hate seeing you sad and upset

It breaks my heart knowing that you’re still

In pain and I wish I could heal you with my

Love. Maybe I am though. Maybe your healing

Is just painful, and it requires a lot of breaking

Through and bending and contortuing to feel

Like you can walk straight again. Maybe I’m the

Cast holding your limbs in place and it hurts for

Them to be held straight but in the end you’ll

Walk taller and walk for longer because I’ve

Forced you into this uncomfortable position

For a while.

 

Meanwhile, it hurts me to see you this way

You’re angry and resentful that I’m putting

You in pain, but you know that this limp hasn’t

Really been working out as well as you

Had hoped. Unexpectedly, in the process

Of trying to love you harder, I tried to perfect

You, because what keeps me bending to you

Is a hunchback filled with fears of my past

That if I don’t fix this, and then this and then

This, you’ll bend in another direction that

Doesn’t think or care much for me.

 

As you begin to stand taller my hunch becomes

More noticeable. We both know that I’m not

Perfect. It’s clear you don’t need plastic surgery.

You don’t need new arms, certainly not new

Hands. You don’t need more hair or a new

Heart. If I try to change everything, you’ll no

Longer be the one I fell to my knees for.
So what I need to do now, is trust that that

Cast is mending, and open doors for you

And grab coffee for you when you need me to

But let it sit there and mend. The work there

Is on it’s way now it’s time for mine.

Physical therapy, focusing on how to reduce

The masses that have built up behind me,

Running the show when I didn’t even ask

For it. If I can start to pull my shoulders back

Heart-forward, I can begin to move through

The world with a sense of self-worth that

Shows I will be okay, I will be okay no

Matter what happens. I will continue to love

And be loved and I don’t need to bend and

Contort anyone else in the process to keep

Doing so. I just have to do the work on the

Mat, at my job, in my apartment, on my lap

Top, and in the moment, every moment of

Every day and remind myself that I AM HERE

All is well. Shoulders back, chest out,

Slowly over time, my hunch will reduce and

As it does my heart will fill up with love.

For myself, for you, for your little every

Day victories and for mine, too.