My butterfly thoughts have flit-fluttered around me all day, sensing the end of a season but not yet sure where else to fly to, where else things might grow.
I am finding my way towards the longing for a new life. It is something just a bit too far out of reach but right now I am not scared. I sit in a net but it is just for now, keeping me safe till the flowers are ready to bloom. There are old skins to be shrugged off yet.
The night hums and throbs from a thousand miles off. A plane groans heavy through the night sky.I am alone, have been alone, have sat with myself and found nothing missing, nothing lost. Where I thought to find a hole, there is a pulse of something beautiful, something of me and not, mine and of the stars. My grief has opened a door.
Love, joy, spirit – words are blunt and seem of little use but the tears that flow and speak cannot be caught, cannot be held for reference or sharing. I want to hold this feeling inside, to write it into me where it cannot be forgotten, but I know my heart will never stop talking. I will never run out of this. I am more than words, more than blood and bone.
I sit straight, listening, waiting and yet wholly here, grateful for right now. I am dancing still. My stretching arms stream pictures into the air, sweeping aside the unseen clouds that mist me out, making way for dreams to float in.
In the turn of a wrist there is more strength than I knew I had, a grace to be claimed. All is known and yet unknown. I am my own touch, my own hand.
I am looking out and on.
There are obstacles, paths, distances, but the road is mine. I don’t know how long it will take, or how long I have got, but I am exactly where I am meant to be and still I will rise. It is who I am.