Saving grace, whole heart back in your arms, you hold all of me as me; I never knew how non-words could feel the best route. Unspoken is our reset, mutual forgiveness, moving on but not leaving anything unaddressed. We understand, silent resolutions, in the simple language of love.
Do you mind if I stay extra near awhile, to just exist in this balance, a respite from the drama of being so much?
Sometimes (more often than not), I exhaust myself with this wild heart and wild soul I house.
I wish I knew true love of friendship early on. I wish it didn’t exist as missing photos in the album, having been removed from the glue after each exposure of being used, or that one that left me to this day confused. My album became less and less full; lighter became the feeling I knew, chambers of the heart renovated rooms, but I held fast to faith, and God inside filled each vacant space. I kept the others at arm’s length, guard up, bowed face, casually brushing invitations away, though introversion was also at play, having created my very sacred space, but in these weeks when weak became my shame, and I had to search extra hard to find the blessing takeaway, it was friends who came to save the day, who found and mended and returned my cape, who lifted me back with hugs to strength. Okay, Lord. In this broken state, I give you thanks. Full is the feeling when the heart reaches dam break, when love fills in in all of its sizes and shapes, and the dust dances off those old blank pages.
I could write of love for the rest of my days with your soul in mine, a combined light revealing new ways, and His grace lacing the glow – seamless, stitchless, healing to whole – but love and light is what I’ve written all along; perhaps that’s the path that led you home to my arms.