I’ve not really been me since you. You are still a sore spot of a memory for me. I lost myself somehow. I lost myself there, with you. I’m still there. Even if you’re not there anymore, I’m left waiting for someone that never will return.
The me of now, is just a shell. A body without reason. I’ve really not been myself since you. But still, I wonder if I ever were me myself when I was with you even. I lost myself in your wondrous eyes, didn’t I? I lost myself the very first time I rest my eyes upon you. From there forth I was never myself again. Not with you. Not now. I’m changed. You changed me. It’s sad, I still miss you. Even if I probably shouldn’t.
I really have to find me again. Or perhaps reinvent myself. A new me. Yes. Perhaps I should. I just need to let go first. Let go of you. The memory of you. Let it fade. I wonder how long it will take. But I hope, I really hope I will succeed. In some hidden corner of this body of mine, I actually look forward to the moment when I, at last, don’t remember you anymore. Not your smile. Not your laugh. Not your strong embrace. Not the shade of your eyes. Especially not that. Not anything you.
When it’s done, I will seriously considering this reinventing business. But I think I will be ready. When that day comes I will know. I will know me, again.
For the life force in seeds buried in the ground that
shoot green and bear fruit and fall to the earth, thanks be to you. Let me
learn from earth’s cycles of birthing, the times and seasons of dying. Let me
learn of you in the soil of my soul, O Christ, and your journey through death
to birth. Let me learn of you in my soul this night and the journey of letting
go. ~ J. Philip Newell, Celtic Benediction