poem about the end of a mentoring relationship |
I was unsure about you at first, as now you know change is not a thing I cope with well. I was just getting used to sitting in the big rocking chair down the hall only to have to switch unwillingly, to a seat of unfamiliar wood with a green pillow at my back. But you were gentle, you were patient, and you weren't afraid to call me out. Somehow you got in very quickly, very well. Something in the way you listened spoke much louder than your words. I'm sure you've noticed, my reflex to stifle and to "box", to minimize and to push away, is still very much in conflict with my urge to breakdown, be messy, let go. Our journey has only recently involved some movement instead of standing in one place trying to figure out my map. Yet in the face of being stranded that small push forward feels like miles gained. I already sense a small piece of that part of me, meant to change with each new guiding spirit, taking on the shape of your wise soul. Now I am faced, yet again, with a change I do not welcome. However, this time I'm unsure, not of you, but of what to do now that it's your chair of wood and green pillow that I'll miss. |