Yes Dad! My feet are standing upon the earth...

Hold not
onto what you claim as love.
Let it slip right from you
so you can ache with its longing
and let that communicate a deeper truth
about our existence.

There are things about Life that are constantly changing.
And things that will forever be the same.
Know the difference.
Breathe with it. Bleed with it.

Clutch not on to that which is passing.
Let its incessant movement show you your fears
about the ways you think love is so very very limited.

You need no one
nor nothing
outside of you
to love you
to be loved.

And yet
when it happens,
bow down. So low.
Leap so high.
Because it feels damn good to the skin you are in.

Love's face will surprise you. And terrify you.
Over and over again.
For it'll come through relationships, and friendships,
and communities, and moments,
and the natural world
in ways so indefinable.

You can spend your whole life trying to gather it up
tidy and neat in a basket to carry by your side for assurance.
But then its contents come crashing to the ground, cracking wide,
leaving the innards splattered across the floor.

It's not enough to live for love.
You've got to die for it. Into it.
To face the uncomfortable beckoning of its fleeting presence,
and move.
Move with it. Whenever you can.
However you can.

Because it is NOT here forever.
And that must be a revelation
not a resignation.
Walk full circle around its perimeter acknowledging we weren't always comfortable with its face.
No. We weren't.
And that doesn't make it any less real.

So tell me. Are you here to be comfortable?
Or are you here to be rattled to your core?
The two, my love, can be amazing bedfellows
if you let them.

Knowing this moment we have now together.
It will never again come to pass.
It will never again come to pass.
And the good times. The great times.
There will be countless more.

It's such a paradox.
So let it squeeze you so tight you can't breathe.
And as the grip loosens, little by little,
you feel endlessly grateful for another breath of life.

Horrific things have come to pass. I can't even speak of them.
And beauty has been offered. So rare.
I can't quite admit it was actually real.

But let that not stop you.
From reaching in to the most terrifying abyss saying, "I love you." I love you.

And let what faces and embraces you, from that unfathomable dark unknown,
love you right back.
Whenever you can.
However it will.


© 2018 Sharon Ann Rose
written with the heart of my father, hours after his passing

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