On a Day When I Was Feeling My Feelings

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And when you mourn the loss of yourself,

The 'you' that you used to be. 

When you can appreciate who she was,

And that she is gone.

When you can recognize the fragments of her that you used to rebuild,

Step by tear-soaked step, 

And not feel a bone-deep sadness. 

Then you begin to look to the horizon again.

You look at the Phoenix reflected back at you in the mirror. 

You look at the community of lovers and fighters surrounding every iteration of you. 

The you shattered to pieces, 

the you obliterated, 

the you in agony, 

the you struggling to reorganize what's left, 

the you searching and hurting and healing, 

the you of hope and despair enmeshed, 

the you finally emerging toward tomorrow. 

You look at them. 

And you look at yourself. 

And you see the glittering gold veins of their love holding the pieces of your shattered heart back together. 

And you know. 

I have been made more beautiful by the process. 

More compassionate by the pain. 

More insightful by the struggle. 

More loving by the loss. 

More. More. More. 

I have been made more.