A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

I wonder how you feel tonight. Don’t

mistake my wondering for concern.

I hope you feel this loss keenly. 

I hope you know that this is it,

it really is the beginning of the end. 

This was a last bastion. I believed

you. I believed that the theory

was all well and good, for others

but not for me. I believed you,

that I was too far gone to expect

full recovery, that I was too weak,

that I could neither trust my body

nor myself be trusted. The light

at the end of the tunnel was present, 

yes, but a mere pinprick that never grew

no matter how I struggled towards it,

but do you see it now? I do.

Look! There! The flickering flame of hope, 

spreading like wildfire. You’ve lost.  

Have you realised that yet? Sure, I hear you

trying to tell me this is no big deal,

trying to tell me I’m excited for nothing,

trying to tell me that if I have indeed won anything,

it is but a single flesh wound, not even the skirmish, 

let alone the battle, and certainly not the war. 

But Edwina, this is the turning point,

this is the proof I needed, this is the rallying battle cry

that turns the tides. Your lies hold no power here,

You hold no power here. It is time to accept your fate. 

I have strength neither of us could have imagined, 

and it will be harnessed for good, for growth, 

for hope, for healing. I don’t need you. 

You serve no purpose, not anymore. I don’t need

your lies and your pain. You tried

to isolate me, but you failed there too. Ah, how 

does that feel? To have spent years trying to convince me

of my failings, only to fail yourself? You offered me

hoops through which to jump, 

claiming this would bring me acceptance, but look:

I have been seen. I have been witnessed,

in all my raw truth, and I have found love

and support, and acceptance,  

unconditional positive regard. Take your leave.