Dismantled

 

When I first started

along this pathway,

I wanted to destroy

every part of me,

dismantle the old,

create a new me, one that hadn't

gotten so bruised and broken,

used and discarded

like an unwanted milk carton.

 

Every past memory,

every faded story...

I'd burn their remains

in a bonfire of old flames,

watching embers rise

and fizzle into dust.

I wanted to forget,

to say goodbye to the hurt

hanging around my neck.

 

I wanted to escape the pain.

I wanted to escape the feeling.

 

But in a sudden wave of melancholy

I realised, without pain,

I'd just be a list of broken parts,

a shopping cart of broken hearts

with wheels spinning in circles,

a reminiscence missing meaning,

only living in remembrance

of that which was once living.

 

So, I started to listen to the pain,

to see why it sang so loudly.

It was a soulful song

of where I'd been, and the new road

I was travelling along.

 

It was beautiful.

Tuneful. A union of old and new.

 

I decided to listen to my fears.

They were merely afraid of ego death,

of standing naked whilst everyone

points and leers.

 

Well, the ego has no breath anymore;

I let the robes fall to the floor years before.

 

I am happy to be both clown and confidante,

performer and human. The two in union,

not in competition.

 

I listened to my feelings.

Feeling wasn't what hurt the most...

it was when feeling died,

leaving an unwanted ghost.

But even that ghost

was a beautiful companion

when you listened to their story.

A union of past and future.

 

I listened to

the broken shrapnel

of a cracked heart,

and realised it just wished

to find its other side.

If it broke again,

it would mend just fine

in pastel-coloured memories.