The Chair

Several years ago, I found myself sitting with my beloved grandmother who had just broken her hip in the same exact hospital room that my ex-husband sat with me the night I wanted to commit suicide. This was the moment where I started the forgiveness/healing process for both of us. This is a poem I wrote in honor of the healing.

As you lie upon the Chair,
in our small hospital room,
I want to hold you,
tell you it’ll be OK.

As I look over at you,
your head transposed
in a half-asleep state,
you seem like a butterfly to me.

That Chair
you sit on,
during my suffering,
You are witness to
the most hidden
recesses of my soul.

You are there,
in that dark and terrible place,
and you take that
suffering upon yourself,
enacting it in the midst of destruction.

I try to drink
the nectar of a poison flower,
and fall into a deep
and unconscious state.

You try to wake
me out of that slumber
but the accusers
are all around.

All you can do is watch.

I weep in this room,
not for the pain,
but for the agony
I cause in you,
that you have to endure.

Please forgive me.

I weep with the tears
the tears that you shed.
in this sun-return,
I weep with all the care,
the care you give to me in the
midst of my un-remembrance.

The pain you experience,
I experience again,
my Beloved.

If you only knew
what is known in the heart,
I would release you from
your suffering.

I would take it upon myself,
and bear this cross.
You go down to the river,
released from all the
bonds of the accusers
that want your life.

When you try to do this for me,
I can’t hear it.
I am too selfish,
too heartbroken,
to receive your love.

I release you now.
One cannot not mend
broken hearts;
they are for a greater understanding.