The wind of change. The wind of change blew hard and fast shaking the aluminum of cans and cars. The trees sway as if they have lost their bones. As you stand on this street. This one way street home. You just watch it all. And wait. Wait for how you should feel. What you should do. The taking in and holding. Instead of the movement going-just to move. And then. There might be a reprieve.
The wind of change comes rapidly sometimes shocking you. Or sometimes it is a whistle reminding you. A melody that is easier to heard inside of your head. Because when you change-if you start to. People don't want it. They want the bullet points and cliff notes on you to stay the same. Every time. But people change they can. It takes work. The wind makes it so you need protection.
As I sat in the chair and held myself from running after him. Again. I had made it through the tough part or so I thought. Because we play roles in our lives sometimes over and over until. One day the wind blows down the street lighter and we say maybe lets play this a little different. As the weights of my soul held me glued to the seat. I was relieved that although maybe he still ran away. Early. And never saw to see what would be next. That this time I could do something different. And I did- I was. And I thought the wind of change would comfort me. And it did. I was tempted to contact him and reel him back in. But thought no. The wind had taken hold of me and made me lighter.
It wasn't until yoga. The next week as I lay on my back in the last pose of this class. That he came back to me. And remorse I had for it being over. Done. The wind wasn't with me. I didn't feel light. I felt sadness for a goodbye never said. And the heavy of words only heavy because they were never said. And no longer did I want to be different. I wanted to be the same. I wanted to move towards him. And say words that have been trapped in my throat for years. Not to hear answers but to say the words aloud to the face that brought them to be. Wind of change blowing again. For I had given up on a future. But maybe I hadn't given up on letting the words free from my mouth to travel slowly and quickly to his ears in the hopes they would blow into his head and down the long way down into his heart. Just for a moment.
The wind of change was-I still did nothing. I left my mat. And let these thoughts just be. Instead of acting. Not moving for me. Not moving hard and fast. And making sure to never let things simmer. Is one of my greatest challenges. I blow back and forth about what I want and how I would like this all to end. A long traveled journey down halls and roads and aisles and lines we have seemed to find each other more than once. But when I saw him again after years and after the hospital which I had called this match over. I couldn't help but think I can say what I want. Out loud. To him. But he already knows. Just like his words. His words he had told me over and over as he walked or ran away down the street as the wind picks up behind me. It used to propel me to follow. But this time. It willed me. To stand still. And see what happens. Next. The wind stopped. On its own. At least for now.
The wind of change comes rapidly sometimes shocking you. Or sometimes it is a whistle reminding you. A melody that is easier to heard inside of your head. Because when you change-if you start to. People don't want it. They want the bullet points and cliff notes on you to stay the same. Every time. But people change they can. It takes work. The wind makes it so you need protection.
As I sat in the chair and held myself from running after him. Again. I had made it through the tough part or so I thought. Because we play roles in our lives sometimes over and over until. One day the wind blows down the street lighter and we say maybe lets play this a little different. As the weights of my soul held me glued to the seat. I was relieved that although maybe he still ran away. Early. And never saw to see what would be next. That this time I could do something different. And I did- I was. And I thought the wind of change would comfort me. And it did. I was tempted to contact him and reel him back in. But thought no. The wind had taken hold of me and made me lighter.
It wasn't until yoga. The next week as I lay on my back in the last pose of this class. That he came back to me. And remorse I had for it being over. Done. The wind wasn't with me. I didn't feel light. I felt sadness for a goodbye never said. And the heavy of words only heavy because they were never said. And no longer did I want to be different. I wanted to be the same. I wanted to move towards him. And say words that have been trapped in my throat for years. Not to hear answers but to say the words aloud to the face that brought them to be. Wind of change blowing again. For I had given up on a future. But maybe I hadn't given up on letting the words free from my mouth to travel slowly and quickly to his ears in the hopes they would blow into his head and down the long way down into his heart. Just for a moment.
The wind of change was-I still did nothing. I left my mat. And let these thoughts just be. Instead of acting. Not moving for me. Not moving hard and fast. And making sure to never let things simmer. Is one of my greatest challenges. I blow back and forth about what I want and how I would like this all to end. A long traveled journey down halls and roads and aisles and lines we have seemed to find each other more than once. But when I saw him again after years and after the hospital which I had called this match over. I couldn't help but think I can say what I want. Out loud. To him. But he already knows. Just like his words. His words he had told me over and over as he walked or ran away down the street as the wind picks up behind me. It used to propel me to follow. But this time. It willed me. To stand still. And see what happens. Next. The wind stopped. On its own. At least for now.
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