Do not let me blame you.
It’s not about fault.
Do not let me point my finger; I need it for other things.
Like tucking your hair behind your ear.
Like caressing your cheek.
Like beckoning you, “Come closer, I’m in pain. Come closer.”
Let me yell.
Let me scream.
Let me act out the suffering of centuries;
Mine.
My mother’s.
Her mother’s.
Our ancestors.
The trees.
The Earth.
The pain of loss.
The pain of fear.The pain of death.
Let me wail.
Let me press against you and beat your chest.
Let me sob into the crook of your neck.
Hold me,
While I heave.
Hold me while I let the pain run all the way through
Without breaking my body,
Without shattering my shell.
Hear my words, but don’t listen too closely.
Instead, hear the current that runs beneath them.
It flows from the source.
Feel my pain with me. But stay strong.
Stay strong enough for both of us.
That way, you can catch any grain of wisdom, of truth,
To savor,
To devour,
And to feed back to me, so I understand.
And I understand that you understand.
And my heart never has to break in this way again.
No one’s does.
Together we can heal this age-old wound.
Do not let me blame you,
Though I may try.
If you have made mistakes,
You will know it.
You will see them on my face.
You will hear them in my cries.
When you kiss my cheeks, you will taste them in my tears.
But your mistakes are yours to decide.
Yours to choose to learn from.
All I can do is tell you when it hurts.
And ask you to stay,
Until it doesn’t.