Waiting by the Door

I have always been here, you know --
though I've taken a side journey or two,
using Syble's magick to flit there and when.

The lantern needs care each morning,
just in case you arrive other than planned,
but as you should -- just right.

There is time for musing while I wait ...

THROWN AWAY

I embrace the essential calling
to become more of what I am.
I am.

I am here because I am supposed to be here.
I need no involved justification --
do not have to pledge dedication
in affirmation to myself.
Not that I don't need reminders.
I come with memories of another life
-- grief -- confusion - boundless joy.

I am told, " Throw them away, clear your mind."

Methinks there is no memory that is ever bad --
just see me sad when I could be glad.
So easy to wish to release your heart --
get it on -- get past it!

Yet I must ask why?
Why can I not cherish this pain with the joy?
Would it not be better to nurture those memories
that silently cry with those that are loudly singing?

Can't I find a niche in which
to place them both to rest in an honored place?

I am carved by hard chisel and polishing love.
The chips that may have fallen away
during this 'sculpting'
are already ground into the course dust of time.

That which remains is most surely mine,
and ever should be.
I cannot deny who I am -- where I have been.
My spirit may progress in quick release,
or evolve beyond the blocks of mind,
but my past is what has brought me here.

The key perhaps is to become content,
to seek balance between 'what was'
with 'what will be'.

If this takes strength, if this demands courage,
then I dare not throw away
the crucible in which I was ground.

Above all else, when I extend my hand
to those in grief, pain and confusion,
I must be able to say,

"Been there -- done that."

Only then will I be believed.
Only then trusted.
Only then authentic.
Only then me.