First, you must take a deep breath.
Let oxygen dance through your lungs.
Exhale it slowly. Allow the hurt, the shame,
the anger to rise up in you. Let your mind run wild,
like a million loose horses. Let the narratives unfold, unroll,
a river of choppy water. Ask yourself how you got here. Look
down at your feet. Roll your shoulders back. Remember who you
are. Take another deep breath. Then, walk it back to the beginning.
Instead of looking at your feet, look at hers. Imagine where she
stands. Imagine what he needs. Dry the river of false stories
in your mind. Turn rushing water into a dry creek bed,
certainly not clean enough to drink. Call the horses.
Bring them home. Watch as they shake off
the dust of the day. Name what you’re feeling.
Inhale again. Now you are ready
to choose a better way.
Poem by
Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed