Consent

One of the major Life skills that skipped me growing up, and am now cultivating, is the ability to stay with myself, regardless of circumstance or present company.

I grew up in India. People suffering all around me, viscerally, visibly, physically- on the streets, at my car window, not just behind closed doors.

Maybe you had a moment, an encounter with someone else suffering, that you stopped in your tracks, heart broken open.

And in the connection, without your explicit consent, a part of yourself got left behind. Tangled with the one suffering. It happens.

When you notice, call that part of yourself home. It’s a practice of mine.
It’ll come. It always does.

But it may just take a while…

9/8/23
Consent-

No. No. No.

You can’t have it.
I will not give it. 

You don’t get to be here!
In me. As me. Through me. 

No one No thing Gets between me and me.
Not you. Not now. Not ever. 

Not the world.
Especially not the world!

Get out! I said!
Out of my heart!

…my heart my heart…my heart…
(I cry reaching for myself)

Out of my heart!

No! To vows made in bondage lifetimes ago.
I won’t wear any badge of honor that crushes my soul.
No more no more.

Consent-
Yes.
I will leave you-
Homeless black woman wailing hearing your son shot dead hot tears pouring over little daughter in your arms
Life shuddering in despair on the backstreets of Oakland.

Seen. Yes. Felt. Yes.
And yes. Loved. Yes.

Love was never meant to entangle.

I will finally be more important than you in my own heart
in this now moment and all to follow. 
No one gets between me and me.

No one gets between me and God.
Even when we play as such

And when will we play?
So much growing old so very quickly…
So much feeling so very slowly

I call back my spirit…will you come back?

Ishita…Ishita…Ishi…
I call my spirit home.
I live here.