Listening to a physicist waxing poetic
In a live stream about theoretical physics, quantum mechanics,
Philosophy, US politics, Mandela Effects, and more
As he stands in front of the Large Hadron Collider
While I drink a perfect cup of coffee and start my Tuesday
My soul and my brain are extraordinarily happy
-gws
And so comes the end of the heaviest chapter
The plot twisted dramatically
In the hands of an unreliable narrator
Linear time fractured
Slowed
Ran backward
Perspectives shifted
Creating more confusion than clarity
Muted colors of nostalgia dull recollections
Emotional sharpness blunted
The hollow ache of a long goodbye
Completed with the deliberate placement
Of an arch-ending period.
The next act begins with a page turn
“THE NEXT CHAPTER” written atop it
-gws
I stand with Lady Hecate in her place of power
The Great Crossroad
The intersection of past and present
Lessons and possibility
She holds her lantern aloft
Illuminating my options
I can see that each step
Each choice
Leads to another nexus
Another crossroad
For life is a spiderweb of crossroads
An infinite collection of choices
Interconnecting to plot our life's course
In this moment of perfect presence
I breathe
I reach out with my intuition
With deep faith and trust I step forward
Toward a future of my own choosing
-gws
You have said a lifetime's worth of, "I love you" in the last ten months
I remember that you rarely said it in the twenty-three years
When I needed to hear it like my blood needed oxygen
What am I to do with your, "I love you" now
Now that I cannot love you anymore
Oh! My heart still loves you
Still wrings drops of hope from itself
Hope hanging heavy from tear tracts
To be wiped bitterly away
Because there is no hope left
Hope is just a tether
Preventing me from moving on
From acknowledging the truth that
The third body is dead and has been for a long time
Love's hope nearly destroyed me
Consumed me
My heart will not let me pry this foolish hope from her hands
So instead, I have to lock it away
In the dark, cold, empty cavity that is my chest
Heart unable to comprehend that I do this for our own good
It screams and howls in the echoing silence
"One last chance!"
"One more time!"
"Maybe this time! Maybe! Just maybe!"
"I love you" manifests no magic here
"I love you" will not call forth a miracle for us
I still love you,
Too
But I HAVE to love me,
MORE
-gws
Touch the grass of your trauma
If it helps you remember why you moved on
But do not root there
There’s nothing but poison in that soil
-gws
What I'm thinking is:
This is hard shit.
That sometimes grabbing that fact by the throat and screaming in its face is necessary from time to time.
Sometimes sitting in the shadow of that truth is required when our spirits are tired and our hearts so broken.
And when we're done, we rest. We breathe. And we rise and fight some more.
Because we're mothers.
-gws
I plunge my hands
Into the dark soil
To harvest the fruits
Of gratitude into the light
It is practical work
Grounding work
Spiritual work
To nourish my soul
Drawing upon the root work
Already deeply planted
I turn my face to the sun
-gws
I still hold the smallest flickering flame of hope
Smoldering painfully in my belly
I keep trying to stomp it out
Smother it
But it persists
Despite the obvious futility of its existence
It will not listen to reason
Will not extinguish beneath showers of bitter tears
I must endure it
Ignore it
Until it gutters and dies on its own
-gws
Speaking one’s truth is an act
Of rebellion
Of reclaiming
Of liberation
It is stepping into the light
After living in the dark for too long
It is my story to tell
And I will tell it as part of my healing
-gws
I am, now, trying to forgive myself for the choices I made while trying to survive
For staying long past the expiration date in a relationship that had long been toxic and rotten
I deserved bette
-gws
