Sidewalk Bends

Do not take away my pain for it is mine to bear. Do not take away my tears for they are mine to shed. Do not take away my heartache for it is mine to understand. Do not parse my words for they are mine to express. Do not tell me how to grieve. Do not tell me how to cry. Love me the same as you would love those in pain.

It is difficult to watch those we love suffer in such a way we can only fathom to understand. No one wants to see their children, siblings or parents in pain. No one wants to watch those they love go through an anguish that can alone be lifted with time and healing.

While we all grieve in our own way we must allow each to express themselves in their way and in their time. Some fold into their shell and hide from prying eyes. Some cry uncontrollably. Some appear as though all emotions have been wiped from their face. Some become angry and lash out. Still others seek comfort and solace in all who would give it. Though we may all grieve in our own way, we need not grieve alone. We need not suffer alone. We need not heal alone.

Though we may each shed a tear, let us shed it together. Let us cry on each other’s shoulders and worry not about the time. Let us accept each other’s loving embrace and remember we are never alone. Let us remember that in happy times, and sad, we are always loved. We are never alone. Let us celebrate together.

When we spend our time mourning we forget life. Life can be a procession of funerals and long faces if we allowed. We can grieve over the past and double over our regrets, but in doing so do we not just churn our pain and our tears into thick mortar to be plastered like thick masks. We each process perceived loss differently. Some can easily let go, though never quite forgetting, while others feel it is their duty and obligation to carry a guilt that was never meant to be.

Pain is often imprinted much deeper than a memory filled with happiness. But if we would rather count the scars than the smiles, perhaps we’ve missed what celebrating life really means. As much as we would like to believe, the scars do not have to be permanent. There does not need to be tears, at least not tears of sadness. There does not need to be regret. There does not need to be that feeling of hopelessness, or a vacancy we think we cannot fill.

Life as with death, or the acceptance of it, is by our choosing. We can choose to see life as a procession of funerals, or we can see it as a celebration and a transformation of understanding. Perhaps in the death of ego, one can live again.

Can you love me enough to see past my flaws?
Can you love me enough to see me through life?
Can you love me enough to let me fall?
Can you love me enough to let me pick myself up?
Can you love me enough to give me a pat on the back?
Can you love me enough to give me words of encouragement?
Can you love me enough to be yourself?

When I mope and throw a fit, I just want to be loved.
When I scream, I just want to be loved.
When I cry, I just want to be loved.
When I’m alone and hide, I just want to be loved.

I just want to be loved. Can you love me enough?

child: “What does it mean, God?”

parent: “I don’t know honey. What does ‘God’ mean to you?”

child: “God means to love yourself.”

Earlier this afternoon, I used the word “God” in front of my son, and the preceding conversation ensued. Initially when my son asked me the meaning of God, I hesitated to give him an answer because I wanted him to form his own belief. I wanted him to come to his own understanding without being spoon fed my beliefs or the beliefs of my wife and our families. Little did I know that he would teach me. At four years old, he was very matter of fact, as if to say, “Dad, you are looking too hard. It’s right there in front you.” And so he was right. Love yourself.

Sometimes there is no returning to the way things were because the way things were, were never quite right. Though life may have seemed a better time, and memories seem like pleasant melodies, we can no sooner live in the past than we can live in the future. In trying to relive the past, we miss appreciation for life now. Though life may sometimes feel overwhelming, or downright unbearable, sometimes breaking the mold is the only way to move forward. Re-learn to live. Re-learn to breathe. Re-learn to love. There is only the infinite now.

The cornered soul is like a dog that has been abused its whole life. All it’s known how to do is to survive by whatever means necessary. At one point love created it. It nurtured it. But some time during its life, it forgot what it was like to be wanted, to be loved, to be appreciated. It received food and water every day, but what it wanted most, was to be loved. Its belly was fed and a roof was mostly over its head, but its heart was never nourished. Closing its heart and backing into a corner of its soul, it did what it thought it needed to in order to survive.

Afraid that any hand that offered it affection was a hand that would take a swipe, it no longer wanted to be touched. Afraid of every sound directed toward it, it remained in constant fear of being put down and berated. Disaffected, it lies in its corner. It no longer tries to be loved. It no longer acknowledges anyone who would try to befriend it. It no longer looks for approval. It simply exists.

Though it may seem impossible to bring that dog from out of its corner and though it may seem impossible to teach it to trust again, all it needs is a chance. It needs patience. It needs assurance. It needs guidance. Most of all, it needs love. Heal the cornered soul.

The past is blind.
The future is unwanting.
All you need is in front of you.
When you are presented with your brother, do not look for another.
When you see an empty field, do not dig.
When you want to speak, but the words cannot flow, do not look for a book to read.
The past is blind and the future is unwanting.

All that you need is before you.
When the truth is revealed and some would rather change it, do not swallow your tongue.
When the weak are trampled, and some would pick the pieces, make them whole.
When the innocent are defiled and some would turn their back, do not walk away.
The past is blind and the future is unwanting.

All that you need is inside of you.
When your heart sinks and you want to throw it away, do not cry in anger.
When your tears run dry, and you want to hide, stand in the center.
When your fingers claw at your skin, and your flesh becomes a prison, set yourself free.
The past is blind and the future is unwanting.

All that you need is all around you.

Chipped paint.Empty pages.
Memories of dust.
Nothing is forgotten.

Turned backs.
Burried secrects.
Words spoken.
Nothing is forgotten.

Innocent youth.
Lost dreams.
Bitter past.
Nothing is forgotten.

Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Nothing is forgotten.

Stop slogging in the mud, with your knees high to your chest. Remember. Gather in the tribe of One. The seasons may change, and the landscape may become barren, but look around and you will see kinship in all. Stop yelling at the face of God, for your tears shall become hard knots to swallow. Do not walk away. Do not shout at love. Do not blaspheme. Stop the rain. Stop the pain. At any moment the fields shall be filled with green. Look around. Behind you, in front of you, above you, below you, all is heard.

Pain is a drug some crave. Like a straight line that courses through one’s veins, some live in the suffering, not because they think they deserve it, but because they are addicted to it. They’ve lived in it for so long, that the highs and lows of reprieve from the self-inflicted wounds become a familiar friend. Pain and hurt become self-fulfilling and feelings that some think they can control. But when solace is sought and a mercy they themselves are unable to give is a forgotten memory, they stumble into the darkness.

One becomes two, and two becomes three, but added company does not set a person free. Pain begets more pain. Suffering begets more suffering. Whether crouched down in a slumped ball of self-deprecation or running madly and wildly in desperation, one need only stand as an upright person to see what is before them; Choices, or more bluntly, a choice.