The Relationship

Part 1:
I run my fingers slowly across my belly
Where there’s something wet and cold that writhes and slowly retreats down inside
Muscular and lithe
It hisses with a forked tongue
Black eyes beam with venom and power
Unearthly to the touch
Reptilian in the most horrifying way
I stare back at it, in fascination and quiet wonder
We know each other well
And for a while, I thought it was a part of me
I resigned myself to its companionship
It came to me
It barged in uninvited
(Did I let it in?)
It’s the thing that has wound itself around my body and insinuated itself into my life
For twenty-five years
And I thought it was going to stay with me
Until death do us part
Be it friend or foe or both simultaneously
I was in the belly of the beast
And bent unnaturally in its direction
To minimize the damage
Part 2:
Day in and day out
I moved forward in life, as best I could
Making it seem easy on the outside
While I questioned, forgave, cajoled, hissed back, and asked for mercy
Trying to make sense of this unhealthy relationship
Truth be told
I resigned myself to the fact that nothing could ever change
Our routine became normal, predictable, even reassuring
Like a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome
Maybe I gave up a little
Part 3:
In a morning that was long in coming
A nest was dislodged from a tree
It was a stunning construction made from twigs, feathers, and bird spit
A small, speckled brown egg was smashed nearby on the ground
A tragic end, a life wasted
Snake food
I’m not sure what happened
Something inside quietly snapped
I shifted in a direction that I recognized as pure grit, in the never-look-back kind of way
Then I understood the lesson that I needed to learn all along
I wanted this relationship to end
I had enough
I was done
My name means worthy of love
It surged up, ready to attack, defending the only home it had ever known
I responded, defiant and self-assured
Oh by the way, I’m the fucking boss
I can kill you before you kill me
I can cut you out anytime I want to
Crohn’s without a body is just thin air
It can become a hollow where years of stolen warmth and healing begins
Where I can run my fingers along the edges of morning sunlight
Across the peaceful beauty of my own body
Marveling the stillness
