hope has me

hope subtly creeps into my exhausted heart.

darkness of spirit and quiet desperation have been there for weeks, and they are reluctant to make room for such an incompatible stranger. 
         yet they sense their time is coming to a close,
         and awkwardly shuffle to make room.

hope’s arrival  is not as comforting as one might think.

she knows no conventional way, always creatively drawing new life out of the necessary death of dry and brittle experiences  past.
         labor pains and all.
         hardly a safe process.

i greet her  with reservation
         immediately i become aware of the work that will be necessary to move forward from here.
         hard work.
         slow work.

i don’t know if i’m ready.

she leans in to me, pressing her hand to that sensitive place between my shoulder and neck, that one that incapacitates me.  she begins to speak into my ear the words my heart has long needed to hear, having refused offer them to itself, time and time again.
         “love yourself enough to be vulnerable.
         be vulnerable enough to love another.”

with those two lines, does she know what she asks of me?
has she not noticed fear and denial , who also make their homes here?
         they don’t take kindly to that kind of language,  and they make it clear
                   with the tension in my jaw,
                   with the pain in my stomach after i eat,
                   with my thoughts when  all i want is to sleep.

i embrace her with sad resolve.
         i don’t want my confusion and apprehension about her arrival to be mistaken as a cold shoulder,
         as a refusal to accept the gifts she brings.

but i don’t know if i’m ready.

and i don’t know where hope will lead me.
         my intuition tells me there’s something good and real at the core of it.
                   (that’s how she always gets me)
         but i sense the danger that lurks at the edges, too.
                   already, i feel its cold hand hit me hard across the face.

i recoil.
         i want to plunge back into the familiar arms of fear and denial.

i’m not ready.

besides, it is so easy to ignore her
         i can make it happen in an instant, almost as if she was never there.
         with a thought
         or a breath
         i can make her disappear,
         nearly eliminating her memory from my consciousness.

years of denial have taught me how.
         practice makes perfect, you know?
                   and oh how i’ve practiced.
         now it’s a struggle to control it,
         to keep it from happening.
         i don’t even notice.

god damn the toxic beliefs that have brought me to this place.
         god damn the guilt.
         god damn the denial.
         god damn the god of both.

(i still feel her arms around me).
         oh god.

i don’t know if i’m ready.

possibility comes at the cost of my false securities
         and letting go of them will almost certainly be
                   awkward
                   embarrassing
                   and probably painful
         i can’t say, though, that hope has ever lead me astray.  (has she anyone?)
                   i look at where we have been before.
                   do i regret those journeys?
         
but i don’t know if i’m ready.

i argue with hope.

i say to her:
         “there’s more at stake this time.
         it’s more dangerous
         there are more layers
         i don’t know what the hell i’m doing.”

“did those issues ever matter before?
         did you expect me to be convinced?
         am i supposed to lay before them
                   to be intimidated
                   to be trampled
                   to leave?
         it’s time, and you know it.
                   in your breath
                   in your heart
                   in your bones.”

“i’ll be here for each step, to remind you  why anyone does this.
         and you’re right, you know?
         there’s too much at stake.
                   too much of your own happiness
                   too much of your own life
                   to much of your own body
         to be reluctant to leave the place you’re in
         to find new life
                   new stirring
                   new love
                   new divine.”

hope has me.

what can i be but ready?