Saying Goodbye

Many forms of me have come into being,

each one abandoned by the last.

One was buried in the backyard of my childhood home.

Another dragged into the woods at night.

The last one was drowned,

in the lake,

on a cold winter morning,

by me.

But it was never enough.

The shame of their existence crept up my skin,

and peaked through my clothes.

Their unwanted presence grew bigger and bigger until one day

I was swallowed whole.

Surrounded and held on a bed of deep green fern,

I saw words etched into each leaf.

The fern told me to read, so I did.

They were stories.

Stories of sorrow, of loss, abandonment, heartbreak,

loneliness.

They were my stories,

all the ones I could never bare to face.

I wept and wept and tried to break free.

The fern said, “Read again!”

So I did.

“It had to be this way.”

I wept and wept and tried to close my eyes.

The fern said, “Read again!”

So I did.

“You did not know any better.”

I wept and wept and tried to distract myself with other thoughts.

The fern said, “Read again!”

So I did.

“They did not know any better.”

I wept, I wept,

I rejoiced!

Compassion flooded in and broke me free from the ferns grip.

Compassion for myself, for every person in my life, for every moment I have ever lived.

The beautiful and the painful.

It had to be this way.

I didn’t now any better.

They didn’t know any better.

I was free, I danced, I laughed.

The next time I say goodbye,

it will be with a warm embrace,

a bouquet of flowers

and a handwritten letter.

Thanking me for all the moments I survived, so that I could be who I am now.

 - Mahzeb