Now is the time of the body
After all of this time tending to the soul.
Now is the time of scars, tightening around themselves, calling in reinforcements, over doing it along a weak edge.
Pulling myself into myself.
Now is the time of bone and muscle and fat. Of fluids and elasticity and spaces between.
Now is the time of reentry. Back into this body that betrayed me and saved me.
She is not the only one.
Forgiveness is a deep gulf. It must be invited in.
Like a virus. It is a bitter medicine, a sour pill once swallowed that comes in to destroy past and start from where we are now. It is chemotherapy.
The depths with which I hate my body, with which I cannot stand to be in it, continue to reveal themselves. How I feel like I am in it until I see how I stay just outside of it.
The health guru full of toxicity and adding more. To stay away.
I understand addiction. The covering up so as to move away.
But it is false. There is no escaping this flesh. Torn and repaired. Life and death and life again.
There is a part of me that has given up.
And it’s with my body.
So the work now is to reclaim that space. To find a way to live inside this failure, this empty womb, these absent tubes. These many deep abdominal wounds, torn and sliced, healed and stitched and stapled.
And so the experts change my constitution, work on the scars, find that he is still in there, taking up the space that is mine.
Taking up the space that is mine. I was afraid of that. I regretted the space he would take up when he was in there, readying to come out.
I never knew what real regret was. Nor forgiveness.
We can expunge the assholes from our lives but not the ones inside us. We must search for their kindness, their humility, their sincerest of apologies should we be able to hear them. Should they become a mantra, screaming out from the scarring. For our forgiveness, our mercy, our love and care and presence.
The final frontier of the deep work.
Now is the time for she and I to learn to live with each other again.
To learn to live again.