A poem of resistance and hope and waiting.

There will be many battles
with raised voices,
debates that last into the night
with weary pauses in-between. 

There will be conflict
and misunderstandings. 

Let these come to you
from external forces, from loved ones
with good enough intentions,
from bosses and children,
from well-meaning friends
who will never learn
to keep their noses
in their own goddamn gardens. 

Don’t argue with yourself.
Do not toss and turn
through the night,
do not draw crosses in your mind
with pros and cons on each side.
Do not pick apart the pieces
or apologize for the contradictions.

Do not draw a weapon
upon your own soul. 

Do not fear the shadow side of the moon,
the double edged sword
you carry in your hand.
Feel, and never look back.
Err, and do not retrace those steps.
Stumble, and bear your scars with pride.

Don’t dumb it down.
Don’t separate mind from heart,
organism from organ,
disease from cure.

Integrate yourself like skeleton leaves,
like carpeted blades of grass,
like the sky full of dead stars still shining,
long after they’re gone.

Follow your highest emotion,
the most courageous cry,
the hope whispering hallelujah
in the void of night.

Follow the corner of your mouth
curled in hesitant smile. 

Give in to the embrace
that catches you off balance,
lean into the one
touching your cheek.
Learn to cry more often
with gladness.
Drink your fill of troubled waters
then transform the pain
into a fountain of joy. 

Cut your hair but do not wound
your own spirit.
Ask for healing, ask for peace.
Stand firm in mountain pose
until you become the rock
and the sky.

Caress the roughness of the bark,
stretch your arms around its girth,
lie on your back and gaze
through barren branches,
waiting for Spring.

Never forget the sliver of moonlight
is only an illusion.
The earth has turned her back
for just a moment.

The light will return,
the rotation will complete.
You are whole,
just like the moon.

(Modified from its original version posted here, written March 27, 2015)

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