Rest

Maybe it is no longer just making it through the week, pining for the end. Maybe no longer ten steps ahead in conversation, looking from the outside in. Maybe no longer an escape from inevitable confrontation.

Rest. Maybe rest is no longer dissociation.

Maybe rest is being me, which I think means showing up to fight. Sticking around, not leaving, acknowledging that you affect me and that I will stay. Rest is saying that this is ok.

Rest then is seeing all of you. It is slow motion, it is sensual, it is feeling. It is your glance. It is your face, captured, illuminated, soft, strong, harsh, tangible, whole, human. In rhythm, in joy. Rest then is this delight not having to turn to shame.

Rest is sitting beside you, and becoming myself.