What does it mean to break open?
A poem on allowing the process of life to reform us.
The other day,
I watched a crow dig through my gutter.
Calling out its findings to whoever was listening.
It made me reflect on the significance of crows.
When I later discovered their connection to transformation.
It felt like a mysterious,
Timely message.
For the past year and a half,
I've been navigating a season of breaking down and breaking open.
Descending into dark nights and cool ground.
But as the dust settles,
I am beginning to see how I have reformed.
I've become a seeker of silence and solitude.
A deeper observer of nature.
And a compassionate friend to myself,
First and foremost.
It feels significant.
Yet I know the work is not yet done.
This poem is a reflection on this exact moment.
Transformation.
A crow sits outside my window.
Calling its place to the ears of the world.
Or perhaps the feast it found hidden in the gutter.
I stop and stare for a while.
Wondering why my house,
My gutter,
My window.
To see a crow,
They say,
Indicates change,
Transition,
Mystery.
Crossing a threshold from one way of being to another.
Not necessarily to predict a transformation.
But to mirror one already happening.
Recently,
I've been wondering.
What does it mean to break open?
What does it mean to be reduced to our most basic form?
What does it mean to shatter into a million unrecognizable pieces?
Perhaps there is no meaning.
Accept.
To reclaim the space created in the breaking.
To reform our soul after the fire.
To gather the pieces after the shattering.
To allow our old form to fall away.
Leaving another in its place.
Not better.
Just different.
Allowing time and life.
To transform us.
I'd love to hear from you in the comments.
Have you ever had a moment where you felt entirely broken open?
Only to find something different and necessary on the other side.
What did your reclaimed space look like?
With warmth and gratitude.
