Between love and loss

I stand between these poles: the love that I feel and know to be true, and its loss, the unrequited element which grips my heart, causes my gut to tighten and lose my appetite for everything else in my life.

I am told that channeling my mind towards anything significantly different will make the pain more bearable: learning a new instrument, training for a triathalon, learning a new language.

I still smell her scent on all the clothes she gave me even though I know its not really her scent - my mind has made her close when she is no where here now.

Perhaps my version of this hypnotism to break me out of a whole season of grief and longing and hoping is to put my own self so strongly and consistently into the world that I forget for a moment what I have lost.

Starting there, I pad my feet around the moonlit grass, calling to the stars and any of the more-than-human world for help.

For a way to enter a new becoming even as I realise the supplication has already been answered - my prayers already on the move - the brothers and sisters of stars, and the heavy earth of mother already working towards my best interests even while I sleep.