pluck my wings

I want to hate you but I am afraid if I hate you, I will hate me. How can I restore that child-faith that the world was good just because I believed in it? And now that I don’t believe in it, I am convinced it reeks though it may simply be the stench of my own body. How I want to love you and love the world.

How dare you destroy what I thought of God. But I will forgive you because I want to love me.

How dare you abandon me in my darkest night. How unnatural of you.

If I severed the tie and made official what is now only implicit, it would be a form of self-hatred, but so is not saying anything, so here begins my anthem.

I do not love you. But I forgive you because I cannot hate myself. And if I don’t talk to you it is because I am busy loving me.

And in my silent meditation, I am only making official the not talking, something you made official in your heart.

There was no agreement, your not addressing me personally as your child. You did not say: Hey, how about being a recipient of mass mailings and afterthoughts while you are undergoing the biggest challenge of your life? Though I sound angry, it is just the sound of me choking on my own heart. I didn’t say I know how to love myself very well.

God is my higher Love. I used to find my God in the world out there, in what He has made. I am sure that is where my Father and Mother hide, and I will find them.

You will not make me small because of your neglect or your disapproval or whatever this is. Though my new words of liberation are awkward, though this is a mess, I speak what comes from my mouth and blood is coming out and so are shards of glass and so is the worst writing I can ever imagine, but I will not hate it because I will not hate me. I will not give you that. I will not do that to myself.

If you opened the door to a cage of a captive bird, the bird would not fly out but I wonder what would happen if he opened the door himself, with his beak or whatever.

This is almost like a bad stand-up routine but I won’t criticize it because I cannot hate myself.

You promised me something, almost in the form of a contract, and every day for a year and a half, you broke it, and that has broken me, though it didn’t begin there, what is broken. It just made it complete. But thankfully, I still find I have enough of myself to work with. It is thanksgiving soon. I will give thanks for that.

My door is open today and the air is fresh. Someone made a comment yesterday about the brilliant quality of the light and I thought yes, it is lovely, and the clouds look so crisp. The light is spilling into my bedroom window now and the light beckons.

And I cannot remember what started this post….I just can’t remember.