Visitor
you are the story
i’ve told myself.
i have carried you
heavy to my heart
like an insatiable suckling baby,
helpless, until i am dry and dizzy.
certain that exhausted attention
would grow you your legs
to walk away,
on your own.
but you are not a child,
nor a captor or keeper.
just a visitor from my past
living on a pulse
born of my perception alone.
today, seeing clearly
i release my paralyzed gaze
softly, into welcoming eyelids
whispering you farewell
in gratitude
for the gift of protective burden
now turned to Light
by my newfound love.
~

There are so many patterns to the way we carry our past with us.

Memories don’t remember – we do – and sometimes we mess it all up for the sake of our story, for the sake of protecting ourselves from fears grown out of difficult experiences and heartache, or as a possessive claim on our identity, or even as a way to avoid the unknown or inevitable change of living life.

And there can be great grief in letting go of a past well-nurtured and woven into the present-tense of one’s story.

But your stories do not define you. Neither does your past. Your past, and whatever happened, was just a visitor passing through – sometimes a welcome guest, sometimes uninvited. But just a visitor passing through.

You existed before and after that visit.

So does your light.
So does your love.

And these are the gifts you can send to your past as you turn the other way, whole and ready for the unknown.

~ hali

——–
This painting and poem is from my Fearless painting journey in DEEP, week 4.

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