Coming to My Senses
I see darkness.
Dark as the inside of a coffin,
Or dark as ten feet of dirt.
You say certain things glow in the dark,
Even grow in the dark.
You see light.
I need your eyes.
I hear my words and they sound crazy.
You hear my words and say I’m sane.
I need your ears.
This is a part of a poem I wrote a long time ago for my husband, Greg. I don’t remember what prompted me to write it, but I was probably in one of my weird, moody moments.
Since the day we met, Greg has listened to me, reassured me, and accepted me. He has loved me like I cannot fully love myself.
I wonder, though, what if I saw myself through his eyes? Maybe if I did, I’d see my beauty. Maybe if I did, I’d speak my truth. Maybe if I did, I’d own my power. What would it be like to live that way for even one day?
Okay, prepare for the tone to switch. Greg just read over my shoulder and said if I saw myself as he did, I’d be insufferable. He also joked that I wouldn’t need this self-compassion project anymore. Maybe I’ll just have to give it a try.