Watched

I watched from three places
on his wall
through the golden eyes
of three feline women
three painted portraits

I watched them, and she
especially she
would look back at me
surveying my surreal features
amid a fantasy landscape
and the bird that hovers near my lips

I watched their dancing bodies
understand each other
I heard their whispered words of love
rolling out across the night

Their contrasting skin
an echo
of their divided minds
laid temporarily to rest

A Realisation

Tonight I had a realisation, definitely not the first one to reveal itself during a a yoga class. It was towards the end, after a physically challenging hour of yoga. Where the ever-enthralling life and times of oneself, the tumbling ever-present thoughts, were pushed firmly into the background, mere white noise to the palpable reality of aligning my body in difficult yoga poses, and consciously circling breath throughout my body.

This is the magic of yoga, dragging the meandering mind into the present reality, but clearly my subconscious was doing its own thing, as a realisation popped into my mind perfectly formed. A perfectly new thought, as I lay there quietly, on my back, hugging my knees to my chest.

I realised that I had been in love a number of times, I had thrown myself completely into the experience, and this was a beautiful thing.

I don't mean I was perfect or perfectly selfless. And there were dramas at times, many times. Fighting and confusion, hot tears. Sometimes I lost a clear sense of my own self. Some relationships lasted much longer then they should have. But I gave my heart freely away...sharing flaws and scars, kisses, secrets and life stories. Lives became intertwined, accountable, complicated. And each break up was devastating, for a time.

I have had, I guess, four long-term boyfriends. I have probably even loved a few more then that. There are many kinds of love. I have thought of myself, disparagingly, as a 'serial monogamist'. After researching the term online I have even less clarity as to what it means and if I am one!

Somewhere along the way I embraced the beguilingly cool mantra of 'forget and move on'. It was easier to believe that loving this person, who probably knew me better then anyone, was some sort of shameful mistake. A black comedy of bad choices. Reason enough to push them out into the cold, and behind an impenetrable wall. Countless moments rewound from memory. Anger was the prevailing emotion. A simple and primal way of containing the hurt.

I have learned that letting go is different to forgetting. That acceptance is more revealing then denial.

I think I have come to this realisation because I am in a good place. I can forgive myself, forgive those I loved. I can reclaim my entire life. Every piece. I thank each and every one for the experience we shared.