“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Dear Body,

What a path we’ve walked together. What an oath we took at birth.
Without knowing what the world would hold, we came into this earth.

You are the truest friend I’ve ever had, despite the distance I put between us.
Despite how far I ran and ran, rejecting you, hating you, throwing you to the wolves and somehow thinking I could come out of it alive.

Together, we took our first breath.
We cried together, forgetting promises we made amid the cosmos, forgetting to remember who we were.
We took uneasy steps together, first when we were small, unsure of our footing, and later, when we’d grown, when we found ourselves lost and alone.

Alone.

But not really alone.

Together we have walked every step.
We have taken every breath: of relief, of passion, of pain.
We have been afraid together; so afraid.
We have hidden, you beneath the blankets, me beneath you. Both of us beneath the weight of their expectations.

We loved each other once.
We ran freely, danced openly, climbed, higher and higher, to the tip of the tree, felt the wind against our being.
We swam beneath the waves, hid in the hollow of the shadows of the pool, watching the world above, revelling in the quiet we had found.
Safe.

We posed for photos, smiled without hesitation, made friends with that dusty, old spotlight.
We laughed without worry of the sound we made.

We slept together, intwined in each other’s essence, adventuring through the confusing, and often dark, realms of our mind.

We felt the trauma throughout our being, the pain of abandonment, of being unloved, of being judged, and criticized, and overruled. Of never, ever being enough.
We felt the anger and the hate seep throughout all we knew, until all we knew was the acidic burn of all it was.

You’re not enough, they screamed at us.
You’re not enough, I screamed at you.

The anger and hatred took over what we knew, took over what I knew, and I couldn’t rage against those that hurt us without causing more hurt to us. And because I was afraid.
So I raged against you.

I clawed at you. Scratched at you. Tore at your flesh. At your hair. I beat you with your fists.
I played with fire, I starved you of food, I filled you with poisons and bruises and sickness.
I screamed at you. Screamed at you.
I cried, endlessly, for everything inside of us that I was killing; that I was letting die.
I cried for every star I mercilessly tore from our sky.

I drowned you in sorrow. Held you down so you couldn’t breathe.
I set you ablaze with my anger, choked you with the smoke, wanted you to be everything you couldn’t be, and everything we’d never be, and everything that no one was, but wanted it so bad I nearly killed the both of us.

And after all the hurt and all the pain,
Poetic sonnets burned to ash about the romance of the bitter rain,
We found ourselves far below,
Farther than the stars could reach,
In the hard and frozen darkness,
Of the bottom of the well.

So much agony inside.
Numb to the bone outside.
Nothing left to fight with,
And ready to snuff that final light.

I heard your ragged breath in the dark.

Holding on.

Still holding on.

The Mother Goddess came to us, as she always does for Her Lost Children in the Dark.
Her veils flying as She met us in the deep, cold earth.
Her warmth embraced us, Her love wrapped all around us.
She did not care that we were at odds, that hate had grown between us for so many, many years.
She held us both, and held us tight, and let you cry your tears.

They turned to diamonds in Her hands,
Reflecting the stars throughout Her hair,
And the peace we once knew and had long forgotten called to us from somewhere very far away.

We knew its voice.

We had a choice.

And we chose to live.

Together.

I called upon my strength to move, and, after a moment, your hand slid slowly across the cold, wet rock, scraping against your skin.
You brought your knees beneath us, scraping across the floor of that well, and like so many, many times before:
In the dirt beneath the swings, on the beaten path of the forest, on the carpet by the bedroom door, on the cold tile of the hospital floor, the hard tile of the bottom of the shower…
You pushed us up.
You took deep breaths.
You found our footing again.

And we climbed.

We fell.

And we climbed.

When we broke the surface, past the dried and ragged vines that had grown across our skies, we breathed deep that rich, night air, and we cried.
And that overwhelming relief, that overtaking bittersweet emotion of love almost lost forever but found again in the deep, deep dark, was both of ours to feel.

Sometimes, when I remember that moment, I see us stepping free of the well and onto the path ahead, winding into our beloved woods.

Other times, I see us pulling ourselves over the stone side, falling to the earth below, meeting ourselves in the dirt. After a moment of catching our breath, we shakily get to our feet.

We tip back our heads and marvel at the humbling beauty of the endless night above, before looking ahead, tracing the path with our gaze, winding off into those dark, but beautiful woods.

Always back to our woods.

Our woods.

And like every step that ever came before, together, we begin to move again.

You have walked every step beside me.
You have ran every time I pushed you to, no matter how tired you were.
You have witnessed all my sorrows, shared all my pains, cried every tear that I called forth within us.
You have shared in all my laughter, you have traced every smile, you have held space in your heart for all of my joy.
You were there for every triumph, and every little win.
You never left my side, no matter how violently the storm came in.
You were there for every heartbreak, every shattering moment of truth.
You always held me, every second, even when I hated you.
You are the longest relationship I’ll ever have, and no one will ever know me like you do.

When our heart was torn to pieces, you kept it beating.
When we were lost and unsure, you spoke to me in your gut.
When I didn’t think we had the strength, you pushed on.
Even when you were done, when your limits had been reached, you stayed with me.

No matter how far I ran from you, how hard I pushed you away, how loudly I screamed and cried and wanted you to die,
You stayed with me.

Forgive me, for all the times I hated you.
Forgive me, for all the ways I hurt you.
Forgive me, for ignoring you and insulting you, and wishing you were different.
Forgive me, for not seeing you. For forgetting you.

Thank you, for healing all my broken hearts.
Thank you, for shedding all my broken tears.
Thank you, for holding me through all my paralyzing fears.

Thank you, for continuing to breathe when I wanted to drown. For continuing to breathe, no matter how much your chest hurt.
Thank you, for speaking for me, even when there were knives in your throat.
Thank you, for picking me up, off the ground, off the floor, off the bottom of our deep, dark well, every single time.

Let us take our hands again.
Let us breathe in deep.
Let us hold each other close, and know it’s safe to sleep.

We have walked through fire together, we have earned each other’s trust,
Through all the storms and battles fought,
And the many secrets we keep.

We have walked this world together.
We took an oath at birth.
And there is no one in these cosmos,
With whom I’d rather share this earth.

Dear Body,
My oldest friend,
My longest love,
Forgive me.
Stay with me.
Thank you.

I love you.

I love you.

To the end of the earth.