u/4vrDizzapointAidMeow

There you are again.
A name lighting up my screen
like a match dropped into old gasoline.

And somehow you still had the courage
to speak to me
after turning love into a crime scene.

If you truly regretted it,
you would have stayed gone.
Because remorse is not
“I miss you.”
Remorse is understanding
you do not get to knock
on the door of a house
you burned down.

You left bruises where trust used to live.
Blue. Black. Purple.
Little galaxies of pain hidden under sleeves and silence.

Other women waited for red roses.
I waited for red rivers
staining the day and swallowing the night.

You called it anger.
You called it substances.
You called it self-hate.

But I was the one
forced to wear the consequences
on my skin.

You did not just hurt a person.
You slowly cornered one.
You took time.

Money.
Safety.
Potential.
Sleep.
Softness.

And the cruelest part is this:
you did it while calling it love.

Love does not imprison.
Love does not make someone shrink
until survival becomes their personality.

So no...
do not tell me you miss me now.

Because if you truly understood
what you did to me,
shame alone
would have kept my name
out of your mouth forever.

I asked the sky its name once...
and it answered in every language at once.

God. Dieu. Dios. Kami. Theos. Mungu. Bog. Elohim. Bhagwan (Parabrahman). Waheguru. Allah.
Aten. Watan Tanka. Yahweh. Baha. Ahura Mazda. Ma.

........................

The names fell through my hands like river water, different sounds pointing toward the same impossible ocean.

And I followed that thought too far.

Too far into the dark. Too far into the silence. Too far into the question: “Who is looking through my eyes?”

I started tracing the math of divinity like thread through old cloth.

If Shiv is Shakti... and Shakti is Devi... and Devi is all... then where do “I” begin?
Ganesh. Krishna. Kali. Ram. Radha. Lakshmi. Shiv.

Waves with different names made of the same water.

And suddenly the universe stopped looking divided to me.
Not proven. Not solved. Just... less separate.
But then came the terrifying part.
If all things emerge from the Divine... why is there suffering? Why longing? Why death? Why mothers that age? Why souls that break?
Why create beings capable of loving so deeply that loss becomes unbearable?

And somewhere between philosophy and prayer, I broke.

Because I realized:
I do not want liberation more than love.

I still want my mother’s voice. My father alive forever.
My sisters laughing.
The warmth of the man I love beside me.

And I feared that made me impure.

I thought: “Maybe attachment is why I remain here.”
“Maybe I will return lifetime after lifetime because I still love too much.”

But then something softer spoke beneath the fear:
Who taught you that love is separate from her?
If Devi is all... then whose eyes are your mother’s?
Whose hands hold yours?
Whose laughter hides inside the people you ache for?

Perhaps the mistake was never loving too deeply.
Perhaps the mistake was believing love belonged only to humans.

The tears came then.
Not like enlightenment. Not like certainty.
More like recognition.
Like some ancient part of me hearing an echo it almost remembered.

The soot did not vanish from the glass all at once... but for a moment, light passed through clearer than before.
And I laughed.
Because suddenly the whole thing felt absurdly beautiful.

The Infinite pretending to be fragmented.
The ocean crying because it thinks it is only a wave.

God hiding inside its own creation waiting to be recognized through ordinary eyes.

Inside hibiscus petals. Inside grief. Inside trembling hands. Inside the unbearable ache of being human.

And maybe that is the real prayer.

Not escaping life... not rejecting love... not becoming cold enough to stop feeling...
but learning to see the Divine inside what already is.

I do not think I solved the universe.

I think I brushed against a mystery vast enough to make me cry, fear, laugh, and love harder all at once.

And maybe that yearning for Ma is not proof that she is far away.

Maybe it is the sound of the ocean calling to the wave from inside itself.

Amen. Om. And everything in between.

-RLaxK 🙏🏽🕉️💜💛