As of late, I’ve been criticized for being distant, quiet, unavailable, aloof, and downright selfish.

My southern grace pushes me to apologize, but the part that is protective of me – my hurts, my heart, my silence – doesn’t feel the need to say I’m sorry, for fear it will be seen as an opening door – an unwelcome intrusion into the private world that is me.

Experience has shown me that it is a fragile line which divides time I need for myself and time I gladly sacrifice for others. Perhaps that’s why it’s so noticeable, since most of my time is spent on the sacrifice side of the fence.

Years ago, I was going through a rather traumatic time, and I didn’t share it with my family. Some likely saw that as selfish, and yet, it was a difficult period and my focus needed to be on myself. I’m certain (still) that if I had shared it with others, my role would have changed into being one to helping them to get through it. It’s also possible that the shift in focus would have been good for me, even if it came with the cost of certain burden.

Sometimes (selfish or not), it has to be about me. And sometimes, it is in these times that I realize those who love me most – those who allow me whatever I need (even – and especially when – it is at odds with what they would prefer).

Thank you for allowing me the gift of oneness, the sweet rapturous void of nothing…….. ❤

what time remains
as once we gathered
shadows of the sun
hands were folded
soft into
dreams we dared become
a fallen spark
of ancient light
some other
might have been
moments held
within the space
of one

evergreen
and miles to go
home before we knew
a garden bloomed
from seeds
of yesterday
a path
not one remembers
a distant
passing through
remains the same
as these we loved
blessings to repay

nights beyond
when all I dreamed
was you

. . .