healing

joy rises from the root
bubbles out my heart front and back
into the world, taking with it
long-forgotten or never-known
scarred memories and flawed enclosure
of my mother’s arms, and all the others
who were her surrogate;
who, had I only been aware
might have been deep loves but instead
were just the target of my fear and pain;
and my heart cannot help being
open, regretful, that I never saw
in those multitudes of eyes
their deep blue and golden true selves

but now, my dear loves, I see you,
I see you; and what wonder
to be enabled to witness your identity
moment by moment unfolding
into the glory and radiance
you were born to embody,
the heat of your arm searing my hand;
the light shining from your eyes
unflinchingly illumining, finally,
my better self emerging from the fissure
reborn over and over

the first time around, the unaware part
my life went down wayward alleyways
but this time, however much time I have left
I get to nudge and cajole my reluctance
into not turning my back on the world’s pain,
or on yours, and who can say whether the tears
are joy or sorrow or both at once;
but, my heart’s desire, as I see them
fall on your arm, feel them on my face
at last I am fully here in my skin
present to whatever we discover together