There is a place we each must journey to.
To face things we’ve been running from
our whole lives.
To face things that caused us to believe we were unworthy. Of love.
So we can settle in to something. To anything.
And rest our tired shoulders upon the unmovable. The essential.
To hunker in to some real kind of warmth.
The kind that darkness and stillness can only provide.
To unfurl within us a welcoming. A startling softness.
Throughout our body
underneath hard edges and encrusted layers,
jagged corners. The ones we’ve been avoiding. Side stepping.
Because we were so afraid to reach out a hand
and feel what rests below their surface.
For in our innocence, we had fully come to believe
they would cut and pierce us to the core.