Dear Regret,
On my deathbed, we will meet.
You’ll remind me of the times
my tongue was too sharp,
my heart too hard,
and my wisdom too clouded.
You’ll say,
“Remember this time,
where you met a closed fist
with a closed fist?
And this time,
where you encountered discomfort
and chose not to stay?
Oh and these times,
when you prioritized
independence over compassion,
resentment over forgiveness,
and fear over love?”
And with tears in my eyes,
I’ll smile and reply,
“I regret nothing.
It was all
a part of the dance.
I forgive myself for the moments
I forgot —
and I celebrate the moments
I remembered.
My life is defined
not by what I missed,
but by the amount of myself I threw into each moment.
The amount of love I let live through me.
On my good days,
I kissed slow
and danced free.
I stood up and clapped and sang
with out inhibition.
I held their gaze
and listened more.
I raised my hand often
and asked silly questions.
I was quiet
and still,
at least for some time.
I found more reasons to laugh
and more people to hug.
I turned off my phone,
w
a
l
k
e
d
s
l
o
w
&
looked
up.
I read more words
sat on more rooftops
held snow flakes in my lashes
and remembered to chew.
I spread my toes
thanked the earth
touched my own skin
and found beauty in sorrow.
I gave myself time.
I gave others grace.
I loved - I served - I fed - I remembered.
I forgave.
I forgave.
I forgave.
And inbetween,
I was human."
Dear Regret,
No — I will not lay down with you
and reminisce.
Dear Regret,
when we finally meet,
I will have none.
Love, all ways. – Catiebelle Bulmer