I recently dug out my old journal of poems and read through each one.  It was so clear to see where the pain became too much to bear and I simply stopped writing, abandoning my last creative outlet.  My final poem clearly depicted my inability to feel, to give anymore love in order to avoid the pain. So it seems fitting that in reopening myself to love that I first give back my heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved me.  I added a new poem to my journal, 15 years after that last haunting entry.  It’s the beginning of my feast:

A new day
A new hope
Fears of the past
Still linger
Memories of where I’ve been
They made me
But they did not break me

(10-8-12)