My Resurrection

Donna Lynne Griggs

I measure the age of my soul by how many moments of tragedy have ticked by, invisible scars now etch into my psyche like prison dashes. My depth is calculated by the number of miles I have traveled — between “nethermost” and “never give up”— always clawing my way back to reality. I clutch every minute of what’s good between my fingers, refusing to let even an ounce of it go to waste. After being mired in melancholy for so long, you realize the benefit of breath; you become thirsty for it, ingesting its energy with the full capacity of your lungs. I am seeing the world without that dirty filter of sad experiences obscuring the image. It is not that I no longer see that reality; it is that I am now able to view its reflection from the other side. I am tasting life like never before.

* * *

Sun and moon align

Gravitational pull turns the tide

Don’t blink

* * *

My well-fortified façade is waning at the weight of its own exhaustion. I have negotiated a thorny journey. The years tumbling into one another while my fear-filled hands attempt to keep the wall from failing. You found that one crack, that tiny fracture — barely even visible — held together by a fading ember of a dream I did my best to extinguish. But it was you: it was all the tiny, broken bits of a shattered life — lying just beneath the surface — that finally solidified my own. You have awakened me. For years our delicate words and honesty have tenderly licked our wounds in the darkness. I had been there alone for so long that the sharpness of your light blinded my eyes; but I cannot run away from it, from you, anymore. My chest constricts as the pangs of these fresh — nearly breathless beats of a restarted heart — pierce through. Your beautiful words, your boundless empathy, and your unyielding passion pour into me. I admit them like an arid earth thirsting for water. Your whispers cross your lips in an attempt to breathe life into me. I take you in: your energy, your faults, your humanity, your appetite for living, now resurrect my own desire to fight. I am beginning to thaw. Sharp tingles shoot through my body at the thought of being able to feel the life that surrounds me, at the thought of you. I’m alive.

* * *

Winter isolation

Savors the Spring runoff

She radiates warmth

* * *

I found myself on the precipice of a life I never thought I would have. The transition from death to living again is unsettling; I feel the sweet bitterness to my core. I do not have the luxury of amnesia. I not only remember everything, I carry it all with me — folded neatly and packed into the sack I carry on my back. With new eyes I continue moving forward…

* * *

A crisp fallen leaf

Shaken by the bitterness of Winter

Is light when lifted

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