~
brokenheartedness.
fuel for my gratitude.
how else would I know what I held,
if it did not break?
~
this is not something to recover from.
it is something to inherit.
~
my c.v. does not list my accomplishments.
it is the weather on my face.
a collection of experiences i survived,
was blessed by.
not with sage.
not with a shame-man’s drum.
just blood.
blod.
know the root.
know your root.
~
if economic and personal growth
are your metrics,
my diminishment will invert you.
~
make me invisible.
~
then,
when you have need of me,
you won’t be able to see me,
standing right here.
~
Thank you Deborah. Fierce and tender is well caught. Healing is a word that has never carried any weight for me, ( and of course there is a story therein) and yet I feel your witnessing deeply. Thank you. Perhaps, becoming, is more my language. The art of being broken sounds like the title of a magnificent essay. I am sure you have written it over and again. I appreciate your being here today. 🙏
Thank you for a moving and lovely way to start my Thursday.
From the title to the trees photo to the words to the Cat Stevens sweet song to @deborahgregory comment and your reply to her …
💙🩵🤍🤍🩵💙🐝