I read that I should mourn temporary
Versions of myself that didn’t make it,
For some reason or other. I read that I
Should erect a cross in my mind, wherever
The light went out, a shrine, a mental one,
Candles and wax, a prayer or two, think of
Her, and ask myself why it stopped there for her,
For them, there have been a lot, interferences,
Cutoffs, bullying, discouragement, whatever reality means.
I look into their faces. They stand by the side of the road.
They seem to be waiting. They expect something.
Are they waiting for me to join them, pick them up,
Cure them or let them go, let them rest, acknowledge
The steps they have taken to prolong the road, to give me space
For growth? It’s hard to look at some of them. It breaks my heart.
I start to wonder whether there are bits and pieces of them
That I can keep, that will never leave my side entirely.
Some of them are small and feel dependent, some feel
Alienating and frustrating, some feel ready to watch me
Do my own thing and rest in peace. It’s easy to look back
At them and understand them in retrospect. Forgive them.
Empathise with them. Feel them still. Love them. Everything
About them. They had meaning. They moved. They lived.
They are all so different from one another. That’s why they exist.
And yet, every single one of them is me.
And I’m done shoving them away myself.
Out of shame, out of fear, out of anger or whatever.
They belong to me as I belong to them.
And yet, we’re free. No more accusations,
No more blaming, shaming or guilt-tripping.
I embrace them as I embrace my own skin,
We fit and stick together. I acknowledge their history.
And I let them breathe and watch over me, my guardian angels.