Still Here

I know I’ve been quiet for months. Trying to get myself together.

I’ve weathered a lot of storms.

Just trying to get myself aligned.

But I’m still here.

It’s been anything but. An elusive, almost unattainable frame of mind.

I’ve been doing all kinds of things except sitting on my behind.

Rest still brings guilt, and healing is hard.

Since my layoff, I damned near worked myself to death out in my yard.

I’ve tilled the soil and tended the land. Not one day did you find me sitting on my hands.

When the weather turned, I took my trauma inside.

I’ve remodeled my office, built shelves, started flooring projects, remodeled my closet.. trying to get my life organized.

I’m sure I need to allow myself to fall apart, since that time I was Riffed Apart.

I don’t know how to do that. What would that look like?

I know that sometimes things need to break, deteriorate or crumble. I know that beautiful things can come from being humbled.

I’ve drowned in my troubles, been burned by my good intentions.

I’ve longed for that crystal stair, and freedoms from responsibilities I should not mention.

I’m forced to look inside, watch my former life burn.