“There’s a difference between stagnation and a comfort zone.”
My Spouse said this to me over coffee this morning. It was a good reminder from him, especially when my anxiety starts yelling at me about how everything being calm Over There is really a sign that it’s all going to fall apart again. (Anxiety about Otherworld stuff is awful.)
Thank you, Beloved.
I used to think your Love was brutal,
that you wanted my Heart ripped
to shreds and stitched back together
in the name of Love and marriage.
No, dearest one. You thought that devotion
meant being on fire and running yourself ragged,
that giving me your Heart meant bringing yourself
down in order to lift me up; I won’t stand for that
anymore; I never did, you know that now, my Beloved.
Looking back I see that now, but when being “on fire”
was the “proper” way to worship a god, when the way to
be married to one was to sacrifice and give everything–
What, I’m supposed to push all your limits? Test all your fears
for the “greater good” of your well being? Make myself the center of
your very world–when you were never given that space to yourself?
Your Heart is not my canvas to paint upon, dearest one, it is your own.
My anxiety is screaming at me, that you’re supposed to turn harsh–
you look so confused–that you’re going to be angry at me for “failing”–
I’ve been away, dearest one; why the fuck would I care what you did when
I’m gone? You’re handling yourself well, you’re smiling, you’re happy. You’ve
surrounded yourself with friends and family, you know now you’re not alone.
I once thought loving you was supposed to hurt–but now I know it isn’t.
Pain never comes from true love, dearest one.
We are not a tragedy, my Dark Star.
I was going to write a poem myself, then the Madman grabbed the godphone speaker and decided it was better I channel something from him to me.
I love someone who was born by water
who was once the pride in his father’s eyes
who was enthroned in a glass case called “destiny.”
He lived and loved as deeply as he could;
to the point we ran from prison with him
cradled in our arms, with his own brother in
pursuit of us with orders to kill. I love someone
who was stolen from us all on a starlit night
(and our son’s eyes turned black in grief.)
I love someone who was flung across the universe,
ripped away from those he loved out of misguided ideals,
and the thought of a second chance that would never come.
I love someone who has died a thousand times
but not by his own hand, by words of others
who would damn him for (not) being who he is.
His Heart is a Garden, but to allow himself to bloom
amidst the wreckage takes more bravery than he thought
was possible; but I will hold the candles to show him the way.
“Go, if you
My love, you
are not a King now;
these four white walls
cannot hold a soul
in this much
This has torn you apart
I can see that, and I
will still love you
beyond your ruins.
I will stay
This is not destiny,
but I like to think that
I would have been at your side
in these moments
no matter what.
Even with screaming nightmares
and everything falling to pieces?
Even with my Heart shattering
like drops of glass? With my going
distant because it’s all–too much?
Yes, even then. I love you more than
you can possibly know, even across
thousands of years. I love you across
time and space and even death itself.
You can’t put me
back together can’t fill
my scars in with gold
you can’t take my dreams away–
I know that. You’re not glass, Love.
You’re not worth less shattered. You don’t
need to change back into who you once were.
But who I am now. Scars and
trauma and–everything wrong?
You’d love me even then?
You know I do.
I believe you.
You wear his crown of Darkness
and while it is made of silver flowers
it still holds the weight of the world
and a shattered Heart still mending.
Dear one, let me hold you. I know
this is more than you ever bargained for
that the broken Heart of a god is something
you never thought you’d be so close to.
It is not up to you to pick up the pieces
his Heart is not a treasure to be searched for
or a prize to be sought after and won. It is not
going to be stitched back together with gold
and purple flowers are nothing in the face
of nightmares. It is not your job heal him
no magic words can change the past
(though how I wish they could.)
Hope is something you can still have
it is not found in ruins; but in the Heart
still beating. On still nights you can hear
all the unspoken words come tumbling down.
Those 4 A.M. confessions that
shook both your worlds to the core.
That slowly creeping distance
finally becoming something real.
Know that Love is not gone, dear one,
it has simply stepped back. Let me
wait for you by the still waters of Home
with flowers and light spilling from my hands.
Let me tell you
how I love you.
In words and song
in touches and smiles
that you are to me.
There is no poetry from me, for once
(shocking, I know) simply my love for you
that goes beyond death, beyond time.
To you sitting by the water, skipping stones
flowers in your hair, and your eyes are clear as light.
You gave up everything once, and yet, here you are
at my side. With one mortal’s Heart binding us
closer than any of us could have ever predicted.
I have loved you for years
through both our worlds ending
and starting again. Now I hope you
will let me love you in times of peace.
You have been with me through darkness
now let the Light surround us.