So, we call it courage.

I stayed out of the way
and kept silent,
for others -
until I stepped away,
at first, just a short distance,
then, farther.

I was out of the way,
but this time was different -
I was on an adventure
on my own terms.

I was expanding my horizons,
rather than shrinking myself 
to be containable 
within others’ demands.

In this new spaciousness,
light peeked out from behind trees and hills,
then, the sun rose,
illuminating the land and emanating warmth.

As I explored the new terrain,
my confidence and optimism grew,
and I was able to see farther -
contrasting lands awaited me,
some beautiful, others ugly.

In the ugly terrain,
​I found the grass all withered,
tangled roots jutted from the ground,
and the stench of rot was pervasive.

As I knelt to remove the twisted and rotten roots,
I recalled the painful experiences that had created them;
no longer hidden by shadow and soil,
the memories the roots contained
seemed nearly as vivid as their origins.

I untangled the rotten roots from their soil home,
detached them from the healthy tendrils,
and placed them on soft cotton clouds,
then I released the clouds into the air.

And I continued collecting and sending away the rotten roots,
all I could find,
until only healthy roots remained
and all the clouds I had released
had become one with the starlit sky above.

When early morning dew formed on the grass and soil,
bright green roots sprung up
and leaves bloomed from the fresh roots.

Clearing away the rotten roots
had permitted the land,
and me,
to transform and heal.

And I grieved,
because of lies
I had internalized as truth.

And I grieved,
because of the way silence
had at times intertwined with survival
to offer me temporary shelter
from the storm.

My process of grieving and healing
helped new tendrils and roots grow
and optimism expand.
​
Around me and within me,
the horizon of hope
​was gradually being restored.

And then the hope whispered to me: 

​“You have every permission to be here, 
to wander,
to speak.

“You are not in the way.

“I will grow as you grow,
when you embark on new adventures,
when you embrace healthy discomfort,
when you assert yourself.

“So, yes, grieve.

“Grieve because of the lies 
that kept truth, 
and your life,
at bay.

“Grieve because of the abuse you endured.

“Grieve because of the before that died,
the education,
the firsts,
and the peace.

“Grieve,
​and heal, 
and love yourself
as you are now,
making space for renewal.

“You are powerful when you love.”

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