No-valentine's Day

To start with a little disclaimer: I got nothing, really, against
Valentine's Day. I'm happy for all the ones who have
somebody to be happy with. I admire all those who find the
courage to offer their hearts, despite their doubts. And I'm
having lots of fun this week, delivering dozens of roses and
other beautiful flowers to people. For me, for now, this is
just another day in a season of clearing. Of healing. Of
holding space. Of remembering what it was like in the
heart, before it was all hurt.

Another disclaimer: I never had one ex that was as horrible
as the words below might sound. These memories are a
composite of 3 most recent exes. Each of which offers
abundant reason to celebrate being single this Valentine's Day.

Maybe today, Friday the 13th, is the appropriate day to send
old energies like this out into the ether. A day we seem to
project our fears/worries/shadows onto, as it is...

The words are also written with thoughts of my friends
carrying heartaches, or heartbreaks, or who like me are
asking, why the HELL did I put up with being treated
like that for more than a minute? Here's to us all opening
our eyes, good and wide. And maybe then opening our
hearts again, when we're good and ready.

no more hurtful silent spaces

no more fights in public places

no more pretending not to hear me saying no

no more help with my isolation

no more ever indoctrination

religion politics or materialist status quo

no more sweet words that you don't mean

no more getting back together again

so you can be the one to break it off in the end

no communication vertigo

no 1 a.m. banging on my window

no need to answer “what do you mean by 'friend'?”

no more criticizing my looks, or my likes

or my books, or my language,

or my kindness

or my heart

as too bourgeois for your image

enough of your offhand condemnation

enough words of tender accusation

no new cracks opened up along the old fault line

another year to remember gracious

another year made large and spacious

by all the breathing room that you aren't in

another season of patience willed

another year with your absence filled

and I just might learn

to love myself again