You show up in a variety of ways. You can be gripping, choking and crippling, as you travel from my heart. I think you belong to my Father's passing and yet you appear when I shop at the grocery store. The emotions that stir with your energy are intense. You're like a dark cloud and all I can do is stand within you. I feel too afraid to move and to ashamed to ask for help. Like the ocean your depths are unknown. I see others discuss and explore you. They express how they release you. I refuse old friend. I know you're asking me and yet I fight you every step. Who am I without my wounds? How can the fights I fought no longer need me? Some say time will help heal. Others say it's a process, as if by taking steps, I could gradually be free of you.
I hold you close. You're filled with a collection of memories. I see faces of the past and replay the interactions. I remember how I felt in those moments. I ask and plead for you to give them back. You're a friend asking me to move past what I percieve. I speak and speak myself into circles to now realize, I must do the work. I must move through you friend and greet the other friend waiting. We will meet again.