Looking inward and holding space
Instead of burying you
Deep in the caves of darkness, that part of me that gets hurt,
I am going to lay you upon the alter of my heart and ask why.
"Why do you stay so alone and protected from the light, twisting and turning in my belly, haunting my thoughts?
I see a little baby girl, face buried in the rug.
Her arms and feet failing about unable to contain her confusion and rage.
How could a little baby be born so upset?
How could a little baby be born so awake?
How does she see the torment around her and feel fear at this age?
She feels so acutely that her whole system will freeze,
protecting her from the shock of life,
the shock of violence.
What part of me is really getting hurt?
What part of me really needs protecting?
What is the cost of protection?
People hurt bodies, nature hurts bodies, life is violent and wild.
What hurts me the most is not sharing this pain with you, together.
Thinking I have to hide it away, not show it, and that if I do feel it, that something is wrong is hurting me everyday.
There is nothing wrong with both knowing and seeing the pain of the human experience.
And I need to share it with you.
It feels good to admit my mistakes and that, confused, I often
sacrificed my soul for comfort and belonging.
It feels freeing to liberate my pain by speaking about it and feeling you care.
It feels good when you say, "me too, in my own way" and we hold it together.
So I offer up this part of me that gets hurt
and let the little baby cry out from the shade
I tell her to open her eyes and look up into the sun
To not hold her voice inside
To not be scared that she will lose her home or lose connection
Her body is her land and the people her brothers and sisters.
I will not believe the lie that we don’t love one another.
We may not know how to practice love but it is still here
waiting to be given and received.
We all know how to do it
but first we must be allowed to cry.
Great rivers of frozen water melting for how deeply controlled and complancent we have been.
She must speak and say the words in her throat, the little baby girl
And let her heart live
A deep beat that is no longer strangled by the grip of pain not wanting to be felt.
She can relax her head in reverence
And listen as if her life depends
on hearing the sound of that powerful rhythm.
What hurts her can be her guide to healing this world,
a guide to invite a pause and reflection,
not feeling alone or that she is wrong
Instead understanding that she deeply, deeply cares.
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