Dear Loss,
There are some things
I need to say to you as
I embark on life's next
big shift. Listen well.
I am not afraid of you.
I am not afraid of your
past collections, your
swift blows to the ground.
I am not afraid of your
threats delivered through
the caring words of others
Be careful. I just don't
want to see you get hurt.
It's true: I thought I may
dig a hole in the dirt.
Lie there. Live there. Line up
my stones to cast at anyone
who approaches. Loss knows
you are here! Stay away.
Stay away from me.
But I was wrong. Who
was I to know what
would be left when you
turned your attention
elsewhere?
This is who is left, and
again I implore you to listen
and listen well:
I am not afraid of you
and your ability to take away.
I am astounded by what
rushes into the spaces you created.
I am not afraid of your certain
endings, your vast creativity in
making sure it is so.
I am, with the knowledge that
you eventually come for all things,
ready to loosely hold onto what
is given before you take.
I will not give the world
a duller, quieter, more fearful
version of myself in your shadow.
I will see you there, ready to
pounce in your own time, and
I am not afraid of you.
I will trace lines on the palms
of friends and trace lips on the
face of a lover and trace evolutions
on the stories of family and
I am not afraid of you or your
threats to take them from me.
From this world. From themselves.
I am not afraid of you.
My ability to love and tear
open and regenerate and love
again and open arms wide to
the recipients of my alljoy
is Greater than You.
I will not hide from wild
love it all its forms. I will
not hide from sudden and
prolonged bursts of joy.
They are of me and they
always return.
I am not afraid.
Instead, I will face the things
love light joy creative
and I will remind myself
You are not here yet. You are
not here yet. You are not here.
Yet.
