There are certain things that aren't for letting go. There are some experiences you just can't get past. Instead, after turning everything upside down, it turned you inside out — its aftermath permanently altering, and like lightning splitting in two a tree, you came undone. Undone in such a way that brought discomfort before it displayed the bones of real beauty.
Maybe someone you loved is gone, and now you understand how parts of theirs and yours became entwined. Maybe you learned the truth, and now you can’t find a way back to the other side. Maybe you finally saw their pain, and now you won't feel the same ever again. Whatever it was that happened, you carry around this undoneness in a profound way that completes an entire picture. Converged with the part of you from before, now you can see clearly everything that was held together inside.
As you look out from atop a canyon, its expanse has become a peculiar blessing, with each broken crevice filled with glistening gold. An aperture widening from within a dark room has birthed a newborn manner of perceiving— and from that moment on, it drives you in a way which influences all your senses.
Like how long you let yourself linger inside an embrace. Or how slowly and deliberately you sink into warm and welcoming eyes. How steadily you look at all you’ve feared. How earnestly you listen, holding the heartbeat of everything you’ve come to believe. Or how deeply you allow your aches and sores to bare your soul’s face even more, and permit those wounds to take you further.
And so now,
pushing past prosaic doors,
you begin to limn freely,
outlining every conceivable
line held by life—
and behold its colors,
crashing beauty all around you,
nearly unending.
~Susan Frybort
