The hair raises on the nape of my neck, my face squints into condescension, my stomach is twisted like a Navy Seals knot, sucker punched. My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground when I hear the news that I already knew but so hoped wasn’t true.
I’m carried to sea; lost, confused, sad and sickened on the turbulent waters where the dark knight circles with vultures, and waves crash against my body that once housed you.
I cautioned you from taking the crumbs and succumbing to leftovers, where scoundrels are vultures preying, but I couldn’t save you. Nor did you want to be saved. Or is it just me that needs to be saved?
My heart bleeds buckets that turn from red to black, magenta rose, tinged with stale perfume on my wrist. But save you from yourself I can’t, as you ride the crescent of a wave and scale the edge of the razor-sharp cliff where the jagged rocks lure you and circus clowns lead you to the plunge.
The promise of hope drains me as I realize all I ever wanted was for you to have a life you envisioned. Not one with holes in pockets of denim blue jeans, cheering others on while you ate leftovers at the finest restaurants, rolling the dice.
The earth falls from under my feet and the sea catches me. My head and arms move to the arctic ice, and my gut and my legs float to the cauldron of the geysers 110 degrees; sink or swim, freeze or burn, shelter found in neither place.
I weep and remember this feeling of being split in two the day you were born.
I sob the tears beneath the well that has gone dry to clear these judgments that try to take control and float to all of my shortcomings: the things I did, the things I wish I never did, the things I said I wanted.
My life flashes before me realizing the perfection of what I created, and if I never made these mistakes, I would not be here to feel these guttural labor pains and the happiness of mothering you.
I remember the words of Khalil Gibran, “Your children are not your children”, to help see me through. One body part at a time, comes floating back in place reconnecting each part together again, whole, where I float in sea salt held by Mother Earth.
I harness what I have control over and what I don’t, realizing the perfection in this imperfection and the love that stitches our souls together, no matter what the circumstances.
I feel the floor above the earth, and I stand proud and smell the scent of jasmine as we click our stained rose-tinted glasses. I breathe you into my heart as we save each other from the other and just love forever to eternity.
Copyright © 2022 Cindy Georgakas
All Rights Reserved
Cindy Georgakas is a writer of words in poetry, prose and reflections of her heart. She was voted the Publication of the Month on Spillwords Press Oct. 2022. She is also is also a Co-Author of #1 Amazon Bestseller, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women, and is also a monthly contributor to MastecadoresUsa and online publication. She was born in San Francisco, California and lives nestled in the trees in a small community about 40 minutes south of San Francisco with her husband. She is a life health coach and massage and Craniosacral therapist who draws inspiration from her daily interactions with clients, friends, her 4 children and nature. Her website is uniquelyfit.net. She can also be found on Instagram #ahamoments or Twitter The Unique Times with Cindy@theuniquetimes. Cindy’s Site: Unique Times https://uniquelyfitblog.com/.
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