Blue Moon Prayers

Today, I'm bleeding out of my ovaries.

There's supposed to be a blue moon.

& my room is warm in a way that's irritating rather than comforting.

I keep circling the same questions.

Am I supposed to keep things to myself?

Am I searching for reassurance?

Am I avoiding a conversation?

I don't know.

My heart feels soft & vulnerable.

I'm feral.

I keep looking backward lately.

Thinking about previous versions of myself.

Trying to locate the girl I used to be.

She's here.

She's not.

I visited my aunt today.

At first, I felt disconnected from everything.

The room. The conversation. Myself.

I watched her.

Listened.

Paid attention.

The more present I became, the more my heart started breaking.

She won't eat.

What happens when someone decides they're tired?

What happens when they've buried so many people they love?

How much grief can a body carry before it starts asking for rest?

Folks around me seem numb.

Less shaken.

Or they've simply gotten used to carrying heartbreak.

I haven't.

The thing that kept floating back to me was her truck.

That big truck.

Auntie kept everything in that truck.

You needed a tissue?

Auntie had it.

Hungry?

Auntie had something.

Cold?

Auntie had something.

Christmas felt magical because of her.

Easter felt magical because of her.

Regular Wednesdays felt magical because of her.

She made people feel important.

That's a gift.

A rare one.

The world is full of people waiting to be acknowledged.

Auntie sees them.

I used to think she didn't like me.

Now that feels funny.

Of course she loves me.

She loves everybody.

Fiercely.

Tenaciously.

Sometimes overwhelmingly.

Love leaks out of her in every direction.

Quality time.

Gift giving.

Acts of service.

Words.

Touch.

Every love language belongs to Auntie.

I left wondering if people like her ever realize what they've done.

Do they know how many lives they've softened?

Do they know how many memories they're stitched into?

The questions I started the day with don't feel as important tonight.

The focus shifted.

Away from me.

Toward asking God what my role is in all of this.

How can I love well while we're here?

While she's here.

While all of us are still here.