I’m in my home. In my atmosphere.
Candles lit. Incense burning.
Slow tunes flowing from my speakers as I pour a glass of wine and begin to slow myself for the night.
I sip. I hum. I listen.
” … boxes don’t fit me very well. Confinement is hell, or what I imagine hell to be…
to Fall into your Winter means to Spring where my dreams dare not Summer.
to give into your darkness, means to take all my light and hide…”
I realize, I’ve been confined.
In all my efforts to secure freedom for another, I didn’t see that The Other was slowly but surely packing away my light, my bright, and my free into a box.
I’ve been confined.
I was placed into a box labeled “excess”, and I was too busy helping another to be free, that I didn’t even notice.
I am a caged bird.
I can sing my songs.
I can flutter my wings.
I can look out the window and see the sky and imagine the breath of wind supporting my float.
And it feels real
but it’s only in my imagination that I am actually flying.
My love is like a caged bird. It was never given the chance to fly.
I was too busy cheering on the flight of other birds to see my own cage door closing.
In non-poetic words, only a portion of my ability to love was allowed out and free.
Only a fraction of the amount of love I possess, was I granted permission to show.
I wasn’t allowed to love fully.
My love was sized down.
I gave into the darkness of fear and my light was partially hidden.
It’s funny how we notice these things after the fact.
My love is so much larger than what’s been seen…