“Right side for energy, left side for grounding,” Yang and yin, directs the yoga guru. I don’t know how long I had been laying in savasana for, but I choose yin.
I am now standing on a bag of broken bones writing this.
I told you about stars the first time we had a significant argument & tried to mend what was terminally damaged. We were a giant star that grew too large too quickly before it burst into a supernova, I said.
I am standing at the top of this Californian trail naming the constellations after your departing back. My feet sink into the sand as I listen to the waves crash against the boulders of this empty beach. The sky is here too, embellished with stars everywhere. I am partially whole again..
How foolish of me to simplify a universe that took God six days to create, into a single person. How creative. How destructive. How wrong.
We were not a supernova. not two right people who met at the wrong time & place. not a magnificent story of pain & survival. We were two people who found affection a convenient abode & grew into each other but couldn’t let go.
This endless symphony is playing in the strands of my heart & I can’t sleep well anymore. I am at two diverging roads of my life & my legs are shaking.
Yin or yang, but I choose yang - the very thing this old grief has depleted me of.