Cyclone

Photo by Espen Bierud on Unsplash

I won’t speak of breaking cycles, but I’ll speak of doing better.
I don’t always follow my own wisdom to the letter.

When I’m called to awaken, sometimes I hit ‘snooze’.
I slumber and I stumble and get caught up in my blues.

With half-open eyes, I look round, wondering who’s to blame…
Then I quietly remember: I can’t win this dangerous game.

I won’t receive a medal for piling guilt on predecessors,
Analysing how they could have and should have done much better.

I can’t always look down so harshly at my roots,
Full of weaponised critique; ready to aim and shoot,

And wound those who tried their level best
When life thundered through them and put them to the test.

I may not condone the actions, yet I can’t despise the souls
That became so entangled, they transformed their friends to foes.

Their lives were theirs to live, and somehow they crossed mine,
So I honour the moments our experience intertwined.

Yes, vicious cycles exist, and suck us in like hurricanes,
But pushing constantly back them, just keeps me caught in pain.

Maybe, instead, I’ll take a walk through some of these great storms;
I’ll saunter, drenched in memories, wishing I were dry and warm.

As I walk, I’ll trim some prickling thorns of past abuse.
Then, I’ll wring out my wet clothes and shower love upon my roots.

I’ll accept what’s come to pass, now that it’s mercifully distant.
I’ll wish peace on all that was, knowing it could have been no different.

And while I give deep thanks that I moved on, and stepped away,
I’ll leave no hatred at the doorsteps of those who lost their way.

I can’t change what’s come to pass. I can’t chase it out of being.
What I can do is walk with grace onto a path more freeing;

Like a long-caged sparrow, I set my indignation free.
I surrender; letting compassion wash over me;

Knowing I’m just as human as those I judged and feared;
Knowing I run the same risk of causing wounds and tears;

Knowing I’m not separate from those that I rejected;
Knowing there are many cracks in the self-image I’ve perfected.

No, I won’t claim to break cycles, but I won’t give up, either.
I’ll put my best foot forward, and carve my own path wider,

I’ll make space for all of those whose lives mingled with mine.
And as my hardened heart cracks open, I actually feel fine.

I feel freed from the burdens of restraint and of resistance;
I feel lighter, less a fighter, and more a solemn witness.

I don’t intend to ignore pain, or erase sadness.
I simply start to add on layers of grace gladness.

Gladness at this very life – the greatest gift ever given,
Gladness that I made it this far, even if all is not forgiven,
Even if I must walk with wounds painful and hidden,
Even if too many harsh lessons came unbidden.

Even so, each day I’ll wake and do the best that I know how.
And slowly, yet surely, I’ll see blue skies through the clouds.

I’ll watch hurricanes abate, and spin a gentler breeze;
I’ll allow myself to breathe, and smile, and even laugh with ease.

I’ll see each day as a new cycle, born of its own accord;
A cycle rich in connection and confusion and discord.

Each day, each passing moment, brings fresh opportunity
To just step further into the very mystery that is ‘me’.

A mystery filled with other souls who share this expedition:
Together, perhaps we’ll lay down our arms and ammunition.

For we’re all born of cycles; we all share wounds and scars.
We’ve all beaten many odds and come so very far.

Perhaps the next step might be cracking our judgmental lens;
Accepting that human lives are always fraught with twists and bends.

We are here, and we’re not perfect, nor should we claim to be.
We’ll make our own countless errors – this is quite plain to see.

Let’s not get so trapped in anger, we dig out our very roots,
And lose the chance to bear our own sweet, abundant fruits.

Let’s look at our presence and survival as a gift,
And endow it with the powers to share and to uplift.

Let’s look around at others with eyes of understanding,
Knowing that life can be both deeply kind and frantic,
Knowing that we’re all showing up, as best we can,
With thorns in our sides and flaws in our plans;

We’re here, through storms and cycles, across smooth seas and waves.
We’re here, sailing together on boats that we have made,
Built of humble planks and nails, sometimes sturdy, sometimes tilting,
We’re here, so let’s do more appreciating, less guilting,
Less blaming, less shaming, and less finger-pointing –
More acceptance that some of life is disappointing.

Yes, I have been stressed and stretched out, and put to the test,
But I’ve also been cherished, celebrated, and blessed.

So I forgive myself for gnawing at my own deep-set pain;
I forgive those who pushed me out into the pouring rain.
For no one but myself, I commit to forgiving them.
Yes, I have been caught in tempests, but I don’t want to keep reliving them.

For my own healing, I rock the past into a gentle sleep.
I allow all my anger to be held until it weeps.

For my own healing, I allow the past to rest.
And as dawn shines on a brand new day, I simply wake, and do my best.