Ambivalence
Contrary to excellent advice, she decides to continue to take life personally. Selectively perhaps. A friend who simply forgets – that can go as nothing personal. Likewise, the tree stump off trail that tripped her weeks ago. And recently she formally forgave the music a careless seducer played for her some decades ago. The music enchants her again.
Then there are things worth keeping. Once at the end of an argument, three butterflies landed on her lover's hand and shoulder. How could she resist taking that personally? And when a flower made the effort to fall into the Buddha's meditative hands, she hopes even the Buddha took it personally.
It's okay, she decides, to amble in ambivalence. No one is waiting. She can safely continue to build bridges, walk across whether there is water or not, allow herself to be a little careless with reality, always in a rush like a young river filled with wilderness.
Beate Sigriddaughter, www.sigriddaughter.net, lives in Silver City, New Mexico (Land of Enchantment), where she was poet laureate from 2017 to 2019. Recent book publications include a poetry collection, Wild Flowers, and a short story collection, Dona Nobis Pacem. In her blog Writing in a Woman's Voice, she publishes other women's voices.
See more of her work in 12.1