I wrote this poem on Christmas Eve morning, my soul sick with processing decades of abuse and trauma, but ready to move on… Almost ironically, things came to a head in my family that night, with me standing up to an Uncle who is used to using his position in the family to intimidate and stagnate the rest of us. It would seem that by accepting the responsibility for my pain I have also stepped into a new place of inspired authority. I am fearless. All that I have been learning this year has lead up to this. Blessed Be.

My Dearest Tragedies,


I know I have no right to write, not after all this time – not after the pain I caused. I know you must think hell of me, for I remember hell too. I couldn’t see how I was hurting you, so desperate to make everything fit into my agenda. 


Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, but I was blinded by my own pain, doomed to fail you because of my own shame. Whatever I made you feel was a reflection of my own self-hate.


This isn’t to say that I’m all better now, I’m still struggling, a lot. Not a day goes by that I am not myself, forced to face to truth of all I’ve done. Yet, there is a grace that’s carrying me, through faith I’ve been brought beyond – not because I’m deserving, but somehow in spite of my own desperate plots.


Truly I wish you only blessings now, in all the same ways I have been blessed and more. Regardless of the way we left things, my hope is that you are lucky, loved and charmed. 


I’d say I’ve changed but it’s more like changing… I’m not sure I’ll ever be “done.” I hope you know what I’m trying to mean, in that language between words humans have almost forgotten. It’s true, this letter is only a vehicle for a communication much more pure – my sincerest hope is that you feel my authentic love, as tough as it may be.




My eyes are opening to the threads that intertwine – to the life in all the spaces that are empty of our Mind. I know that to fully function as a being of this Divine light I cannot withhold love anymore, even in the ways I’d justified before. This is my humbling and my quaking provocation, to prostrate myself before you for either acceptance or slaying.


Do what you will with me. I am still many things that deserve and require pain – but I am not afraid anymore for my own sake. My only woes are the divisions I’ve sown and the catastrophes I’ve made in attempts to be right.


My healing is nothing without the wholeness of our world. Without all of you, I am nothing but my own delusional tyrant and abused pawn. 


I don’t need you to agree with me, in fact, it’s better if you don’t. For all I’ve learned, the value of diversity has proven itself most potent. So go ahead and challenge me, I welcome your rivalry and competition – but I’m not playing to win anymore, if that means one of us is losing.


Blessed be, beloveds. I pray we meet again, and that at our next most fateful crossing we offer more help to one another than hurt.


In Sacred Unity,

mayryanna

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