They say there’s strength in numbness...

Sometimes, our memories hit us like a train from behind.

I lose my sense of time and space in moments like this.

How can something sneak up behind me, yet reveal itself

So deliberately

By slapping me in the chest?

It doesn’t come from behind, does it? No,

It sneaks up in front of me and breathes into my skin,

Right under my nose,

So I don’t see it coming,

But it makes itself known in all intended places just the same.

I just had one of those moments when you hear something

And it puts you in the exact mind you were in when the memory was made.

It’s more than just recalling a scene.

I can feel every bit of what I felt during the memory

Mixed with all I know and feel now.

And it’s funny how this memory is gentle

However broken and tainted by the darkness that ensued.

With the knowledge

And residing feelings this heartbreak has brought,

I sit in this memory now, with an added sense of loss.

A reminder that I can’t hate everything about a person

Or pretend that all they did was hurt me and hate me.

It’s easy to bury myself deep

Into the safety of everyone else’s hate for him

And loathe him myself.

But that isn’t my power.

People remark upon my strength, but this is where I find it:

I allow myself the vulnerability of love and grief for him.

I acknowledge the loss of his friendship and companionship,

Separating the joy from

The secrets and lies

That were sown carefully throughout.

These things are easy to mix up

As our natural protection from pain,

Muddling the good so the bad would be easier

To accept and recover from.

Yes, his intentions were evil.

But I don’t believe that anyone can develop such a relationship

Without channeling some small bit

Of genuine compassion from within,

No matter how sick and crooked the motive is.

It’s also funny how people will try to explain to me

Why this perception I have

Is just another sign of the power

Of his manipulation.

But to that I say:

“You weren’t there,

Were you?”

Now matter how great of a mask he put between me

And his true intentions, I still saw his eyes,

Closer than anyone else, deeper than

Anything

Ever

Will

Again;

So that despite people’s inability to understand,

I knew him more than he thought.

So everyone can indulge in their rage, in their disgust and loathing.

But I will continue to heal as I allow myself to recall my love,

And grieve its loss.

My memories act as a shield to the poisonous anger and hatred

That erodes great warriors into uncertain wanderers.

I find strength in my love

Where others might assume weakness;

And I’ve realized

That’s what strikes panic and terror into my enemies.

People who expect wrath don’t know what to do with themselves

In the face of forgiveness

And it eats them alive.

While this dirt on my path suffers in its questions,

I revere and honor who I was,

Who I am,

And who I am yet to be,

In choosing peace.