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.”