33

I’ve lived a thousand lives and I’m only 33. Many are in my head but the rest I’ve felt and seen. My newborn on an operating bed, a marriage incomplete. Threats that have made me numb, pain that pierced me deep. I’ve been cut open and sewn back up. Plastic and metal in places inside my body where they never should have been.

I’ve lived a holy life and come out on the other side. I’ve felt the vastness of the mountains, desert and beach. I’ve run for miles and still haven’t gotten anywhere.

I have questions that will never be answered, pain that will never be resolved, love that is too big to be received. I’ve felt so pent up and angry I could scream. I have many fears that compete.

Falling off a bridge in a car, trapped and unable to swim. A train and its lights speeding towards me, its deep blaring whistle and high pitch squeaking breaks.

My love made me cross its tracks once. We made it through unscathed, though the vision still haunts me today. I keep running as fast as I can out of despair over being separated. Can I keep up? Will we be as lucky this time?

I’ve felt valued and disregarded, loved and underestimated. It thrills and terrifies me when I am fully seen. I feel older than 33, but I don’t know where it’s gotten me.

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