On this day you shouldn’t be checking your email. I hope, instead, you are watching holiday movies, and still in your pajamas, and drinking coffee, and finding joy, and calling your loved ones, and eating one more cinnamon roll, and picking up pieces of taped wrapping paper, stuck to the floor, and feeling…feeling…feeling, the light and warmth of the season. Feeling that you can finally settle down. Feeling that this is the day to rest and think about nothing in particular. I’m here with you.
On this day you might also be mourning, and seeped in a kind of loneliness that feel worse than on any other day. You may be trying to keep hurtful memories at bay, or separated and far from the people you love. You loved. Maybe this day you are begging for it to be swift and end quickly, because you cannot bear to be told to carry joy when pain is taking up all the space inside your chest. I’m here with you too.
And so, here’s a little poem, nothing your brain needs to work too hard at. Nothing as important as honoring where you are at, and being gentle to whatever is filling your heart. I am here with you.
Flight
a fallen feather is a piece of grounded soul
aimless without a body
to lift
a reminder of once great heights
no longer attainable
she is a sign from the gods
that even the most perfect designs
lose elemental fragments
along the bumpy ride
and every fragment shed
is an updraft not caught
still, I think they’re pretty
and I tuck them into books
and pin them to walls
and read in them messages
in the timing of their arrival along my path
on my right means yes,
left is no
even when a question
hasn’t formed yet
maybe if I collect enough
I can build my own wings someday
maybe leave this place,
a curtain of elemental fragments
lost pieces of soul,
to lift
