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Break Open

Sometimes we break open.

we move twenty times
in fourteen years
and forget stillness, forget
how to utter home.

Sometimes the longing for stability
radiates so bright inside our body
that we burn and seep and smother
and the exhaustion overwhelms us.

Sometimes we break open.

We lose the nest we’ve built inside.
We lose a limb; a friend; a spouse; a love
and the threads between one half and the other
undo.

It is unbearable, the way the heart falls and
rolls out of reach.

Sometimes we break wide open to the world
and the world is suddenly wide open, too.

 

 

 

Like when a child is born;
like when the story of a life begins again;
like when a seed is sewn

and we stitch all the messy pieces
back together,
seeking wholeness.

Sometimes we break open.

We carry the seams.
We walk in failure.
We let the fear, anger, sadness dwell in our hands
and we hold it there
and we heal.

Meditate in impermanence; gratitude;
compassion.

Sometimes the strength we think we were born with
grows larger than our own heft.
We lift our muddy weight from the swamp
and we rise.

We break
open.