The Center of Things

Full to the brim of frothing questions and agitations, and like so much mourning,
the only way out is through to find the center of things

I am what I am after a thousand and one reasons to keep one foot out the door,
believe me when I say, I am more exhausted than
you when dealing with the ebb and flow of Me

But perhaps not
You, my love, are saddled with being the Rock and the Patience,
while I have come undone to the stitches every which way since our first Day One

Yet we breathe forward each time, finding a path through,
placing pink and tender feet upon stronger ground
Wobbling, as if the all the limbs are brand new
But they are! They are brand new!
Fresher minted than any good luck penny
(Never in my deepest dreaming did I let myself believe
I could actually Be. Happy.)
And you say with a smile while we walk together,
"You are who you are, and I love you"

So, naturally,
I want to run screaming away
('Cause that makes sense)
and drink only from the poisoned wells that sickened me before
Debilitating, yes, but satisfying in a worrying-your-sore-tooth sort of way

Never wrote of weddings or babies or rings and things before this,
seeing only fences when the world lay open
Hearing the Can Not, Have Not, Should Not and Won'ts
I say these things now (as profoundly as possible)
as if you don't see me pulling away,
licking wounds,
running around in circles only to come home again

I don't surprise you-
and once I'm done being offended by such vulgar familiarity,
huffed and puffed that I am no longer aloof and unique,
(even though you've seen me more naked than the doctor that
yanked me squalling and premature into the world)
I am relieved

I am what I am

Because not surprising you means you live inside the ebb and flow,
the rushing forward and yanking back
Seen me stitching all the tumbling, jumbled mess back together
Helped with sorting, discarding, disregarding, or keeping
the myriad of lives I have lived
Means, you are finally close to the center of things

You've watched the slamming door with quiet brown eyes,
only to light up again in triumph when it swings back open
You don't give up, don't give in,
bending before we break
Your arms Never. Stop. holding me even when we're apart,
and this,
this makes you my hero

In the smallest and darkest hours,
you say to me again
"You are who you are, and I love you"

So on the day your stitches pop open,
and you question everything you are and everything you will ever be,
I will stand close to the center of things
and say,
"I love you. You are who you are, and a thousand and one times, I will love you."