Disentangling

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If my longing to transform them binds me to them
I must let go of that

If my ache for truth to be acknowledged and justice to prevail binds me to them
I must let go of that

If my self-imposed guilt from legalistic religious interpretations binds me to them
I must let go of that

You can drench it in compassion
You can dismantle culpabilities with personality theories
You can compare it to worse atrocities and judge it to be less lethal

But it is poison
it is poison
it is poison to me

And there is no resolution
There never will be

So regardless of what my family may think
regardless of what society may say
regardless of what the Church may impose
I have to walk away

Because when all is said and done
it is poison
it is poison
it is poison to me

Self-Assurances

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It’s O.K.
I don’t have to keep trying to save them

It’s O.K.
They’re adults and they have made their own decisions

It’s O.K.
I believe the girl I was once was and I will protect her

It’s O.K.
I don’t have to be stuck in analyzing death when there is so much life calling to me

It’s O.K.
I am free to create

It’s O.K.
I am free to give and to embrace and to live passionately from my heart

It’s O.K.
I am free to be me

The Dilemma

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My heart feels compassion for them
My intellect struggles to understand them
My instincts are screaming at me to stay away

And every time my heart or my intellect propose a possible path for moving forward
My instincts rise up and stop them in their tracks

Loving my Sister

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The time for fighting for her life is over
The options for course-corrections have dissolved into the past
Love must take on a new form
That of walking beside her until the end
And of saturating the remaining moments with acts of profound tenderness
Along with lavish declarations of affection
A mirror of Heaven must be painted here on Earth
As extravagantly as possible
Until she steps through that Final Door

Aching for Living Stories of What Never Was

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Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my belly has swelled with life
and the union between my lover and I
has entwined into physical forms
and breathed?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where the children who were never able to be conceived in this reality
are alive and well and dancing
as they endlessly strew their vibrant and pulsing colours
throughout my saturated days?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where these offspring are birthing versions of myself
that would be impossible for me to evolve into
while blockaded by my barren state?

Is there somewhere deep within the imagination of God
or maybe in certain parallel universes
where my choices
and the betrayals of my body
have not pronounced the final verdict
and where my lavish fruitfulness is unfolding
unencumbered
in the creation of persons
with countless future generations on the edge of greeting me
as we bleed across the threshold
into the realm of eternity?

The Evolving Artwork of Language

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It’s not just about finding your own voice
It’s about discovering your own language
The flavours swirling in what you wish to say
And when you speak
Your words can paint colours in the minds of listeners
Opening up kaleidoscopes of possibilities
As you expand the boundaries
Of who each of you can become

The Deal-Breaker

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if we cannot speak the truth in this family
not even if telling the truth
could potentially save the life of one of us
then I no longer want to be part of this family

I choose to forge a different path

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