Hold... 2, 3, 4…
and breathe... 2, 3, 4…
I’ve been having nightmares lately.
I wake and realize I’ve been holding my breath,
A weight settling heavy in my chest,
As if I'm suspended in a moment,
waiting for someone to come and save me.
To stimulate my breath, like a newly born baby placed on mom's chest.
Recently, that person to save me, is me.
A different kind of a responsibility.
A kind of “safe place", very new to me.
Almost seems a little like, insanity.
Or should I really say, codependency?
I wonder if there is someone out there who wants to share the responsibility,
To take on the task of reducing my stress and enhancing my breath,
Until death, an eternal start.
Is it me that tears my intimate relationships apart?
Until all I have for show are broken pieces?
Should I wait to pursue love until the pain of my past eases?
To wait would be to waste.
The boundless love I have, filled with grace.
I would love to share this with another, post haste.
For love is the greatest gift on earth.
I will not stand by while it becomes suppressed.
A generational curse.
Everyone deserves to love and be loved in return.
God is love, and with Godly love, one cannot be burned.
And as I maintain my breathe in the hope of the good to come next,
I release the past—the shadows that suppress,
so much of the confidence I have left.
I choose to believe in and embrace the warmth of love that with patience, will take shape.
For in every breath, a promise awaits.
Purified and reborn in Christ.
He is worth every sacrifice.
For God's word is like a lamp at my feet, my path is made clear.
Not only will I survive but I will have no fear.
My divine destiny is near.
Cristin M. Wright
