Blessing in Disguise

Had I never left out the door on that sad nearly-spring morning,
bags packed, heading who-knew-where,
had I never said I needed some time to think,
then gave his thoughts time to fester and form words he never wanted to say.
Had I been the goodwife, strangled by a myriad of niceties,
suffocated in a nest of mediocrities,

I would have never tasted the Firstday of Freedom in my very own apartment,
known the joys of solitude, the salve of self-love,
discovered my own strength when shadows came too close at night,
and realized what it was to want nothing less than wonderful.

If somehow the whole of my identity could be defined by my career,
deadlines, to-dos, stories no one would read in 20 years,
If I could have held back tears and anger when first waking,
then walked bright-eyed and fierce into a world where I was alone, afraid, awkward,
If I clung to the ladder just a little longer, then kept climbing
when all that was urging me on was obligation,

I never could have been an artist, poet, dream-builder and lover,
taken time to know what was right with me,
awakened the near-dead embers and fanned them into fiery life once again,
and understood that walking away did not necessarily mean defeat.

And I wish sometimes I wouldn't have left in the middle of the night,
tired of words that fell from her lips in broken promises,
I wish I could have broken through and seen what caused her hurt.
her sad-sack blues still play in my mind, breathing sorrow into my brain.
I wish she had meant what she said about taking care of me,
and never made me feel small and weak and useless.

But had it not happened, my tongue would still be ripped out by anxiety,
my masterpieces would never have been my own,
and I would never have discovered I wasn't crazy, misguided or petty.
Love was all I needed to make me whole again.