Immovable onto Moving

You look happier
than you have in years.
You look so alive and different,
what is different?
You look especially good lately,
you should know.
You look great,
you are glowing.


All such things have been said to me in the past couple months. How perspectives change. Fully unacknowledged burdens and stresses are lifted--a weight that once felt impossible, so immovable. Didn't realize how my own energies and vitality were being zapped away, how I gave it away--in the name of love, of fear, of tentative loss.


Weight on my shoulders by PandaNyu. Deviant Art.


In grief I've found surprising release and refuge. The pain, anger, and melancholy form an encasement of protection around the shattered bits.

The ground on which I walk is newly fertile, still smoldering, but speaks to numerable possibilities.



"Do you regret any of it, after all this time?"

No, not really. No. I always maintained and still believe it was an honor. To be loved by and to give love to a wonderful human. A beautiful soul. Sure, damage was done to each, but treasures remains. Regret would seem an insult to the many years of life and light that there was.



Now I am all the more learn-ed. Inadvertently wiser and discerning and cautionary, in helpful ways, mostly. Less naive, less prone to personalizing differences. The teacher that is loss and grief. I'm listening, I'm learning. Starting to sense moments of simplistic satisfaction, being all alone. Alone with myself. It's not as scary as I thought it'd be. No, not really.

The difference is, I am freed. From self-imposed and some other-created cages. Out into this liberated, new world--of confusion and curiosity and some kind of destiny. On the open plain, into the even cloudy skies. I want to skydive, I want to dance, I want to explore so many untouched opportunities. All to come. Onward and out. Sweet misery, we're doing it. You're doing it, Peter.