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  • Catiebelle Bulmer


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,














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

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