I would love more.
I would speak my way to the truth
and it wouldn’t matter if my voice was heard at all
above the roar of the silence,
the cold,
the betrayals.
If I could do it again
I would tell my secrets.
I would brave the shame.
I would rise up and lead with courage,
my voice a tremulous whisper
speaking truth to the darkness and the unbelieving.
If I could do it again
I would ride the joy of my child’s spirit.
I would turn my face skyward, fling wide my arms
and feel the brilliance of the winter’s sun on my skin.
If I could do it again
I would resist the pull of the current,
the grasping of unseen hands, scrabbling, seeking to pull me under.
I would let the unsoiled love, pure & clean, expand in my chest
and lift me out of the cold, dark deep.
I would let the light of my child’s innocence radiate out of my face,
eyes glistening with tears unshed,
full of hope and freed from the deception of gravity.
If I could do it again
I would believe.
I would sing & draw & paint my world into existence.
I would shutter my eyes to the ugliness
and muffle my ears to the lies that tell me I can’t
in a voice that clangs shut a door to the only future that holds light,
condemning me to a dreary life of grey and dripping with regret.
If I could do it again
I would.
I would know that I could,
that my future was waiting for me,
patiently sipping tea & tapping its foot in time to the rhythm of my heart’s beating,
whispering the words of my salvation,
“Come to me. Come to me.
It’s not too late.”