And just like that. The calming of the sea. The passing of the wind in the eye of the storm. The peace that comes, in the moment before the slashing. In the breath, before the falling of the sword.
We push through, because there is no choice but to push through. We find strength, even when who we are cannot be strong.
I thought of the dogs. I thought of all the animals that lose their lives in torment. I wondered to myself, how are they so strong. How can they be enduring for this long – just to wither and die in darkness.
If they can walk into death. If they can stand there at the mouth of the dying. Then at least I can be who they are. Then at least I cut my chest, and pull out my heart.
I am at the stairway that leads into death. At the edge of the place we call the dying. This is what we came for. This is who I asked to be – in the moment I needed to be it.
Let me be love. Let me be light. Let me be the breath and the strength we need to pull inside. I am here at first light. They scream. They cry. Blood falls from the sky.