A night full of talking that hurts
my worst held back secrets. Everything
has to do with loving and not loving.
This night will pass.
Then we have work to do.
~Rumi
This morning I woke to hear echoes of
phrases you spoke winding around the
Hard lemon knot of shame between my shoulders.
Wedged in this bitter flatness, suffering over
The acid heat of my broken promise not to hold and
The day-constant cost of missing you.
Breakfast and Rumi, and slowly I fill with sweet gratitude,
care-filled prose that lifts me, phrase by phrase,
until I see the pancake I’m becoming, and grin.
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