a poem about change

All 4 corners of this still beating heart.

Change?
I'm ok with it. 
I don't really have a choice.
seems like I've spent half my life waiting for someone
or someTHING else
to decide whats next,
And half my time responding to sudden changes
that I didn't choose for myself.
dis-empowerment from within.

Well this time - I did make them!
A complicated miscommunication
mostly mine,
put me on the spot
their way or the highway
and I like the open road
so I grabbed my stuff and took a quiet walk
not the explosive eruption
I had been fantasizing about
for well over a year
a sign of how deep my resentment had gotten

Some time to think
to ride
to be outside
to think, and think, and think,
a time to mourn an anniversary
my body remembers
my mind struggles with still
to ride
to be outside
to hide out

With her support,
I try
I look, I dig, I learn
I try to teach an old dog
to love himself
to grab myself by the balls
and spit in the wind
and take what I want
an overly bravado metaphore
for the hurting
the scared
the lonely feelings
the worry
that its all someone else's choice,
again.

She reminds me it is NOT
I try, I connect, I swallow pride
I put myself out there
a skill I have misdirected behind the bar for way too long
a character is retired
I remind myself of the fun I once had
I dig out a silly shirt, I cut off some jeans
I even threaten to wear them
(not yet...)
I laugh again

I celebrate HER
for choosing to be by my side,
even when I don't know how to say,
"help me"
she does.

And things turn,
a new job
a new feeling
a new character to play
one that seems a much better fit
one that is embedded in real community
not the one I have been falsely creating
one pint at a time
real community
integration through support
love and acknowledgement
participation
not just rhetoric

a new look
one of confidence blooming
after the rainy days of spring
and a winter unhealthy
on again off again
green the colour of growth
surrounds
and warm earthen smells
suggest the fertility of growth to come

And I will grow from all of this
how can I not.
"You think too much."
"I don't think so."
and I see what was missing
not the final piece
but the edges of this puzzle are touching
in all four corners
of this still beating heart.

I am living.