Dear Blog Readers,
Recovery is not a straight line. There are weeks that feel like progress and weeks that feel like starting over. And then there are the moments that catch you off guard. The ones where you realize how far you have actually come. Mohamed’s poem is one of those moments. It is quiet, honest, and full of light.
Be kind to yourself and remember to nourish your body, mind, and that place inside you that makes you who you are.
Your blog moderator, Kira
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New Season by Mohamed
I was inside the egg for so long I forgot there was an outside.
It was dark and it was small and it was mine, and I held onto the walls of it the way you hold onto something even when it is hurting you, because at least you know its shape.
The egg did not feel like a prison at first.
It felt like the only place I made sense. I learned its corners. I memorized its weight. I told myself I was safe in there.
I told myself a lot of things.
Something shifted. Not a dramatic cracking, not a single moment I can point to. More like the shell became thinner over time, and one day the light got in before I could stop it.
I did not know how hungry I was for that light.
That was thirty years ago now. I am sixty-three years old and I have been standing in the open air ever since, and I will tell you plainly:
IT IS BETTER OUT HERE.
Every year the world dies and comes back. Every year without fail. The trees do not doubt it. The ground does not hold a meeting to decide.
It simply happens, the way healing simply happened, slowly and then all at once and then so completely that I almost forgot what the shell felt like.
Almost.
I keep that memory close. Not because it haunts me. Because it reminds me what I came from.
I am a man who makes plans now. I sit with people I love and I am present for the whole meal, the food and the conversation and the light coming through the window, and I think:
This is mine.
I earned this season.
It is enough. It is more than enough.
It is everything.