Though I run to get out of the rain, it’s standing in the rain with my hands on my heart that is cleansing.
Though I run from the pain, it’s standing in the pain with my face to the sky that is healing.
So I never stop peeling the hurt, never stop trusting life to burst through whatever I have to face.
Even when lost, there’s a truth we carry that—when released—can return us to the ground beneath all trouble, beneath all pain, beneath the worm in our mind that wants to run.
Facing things together is how we move through the labyrinth of trouble, from thinking alone to feeling together.
So when my head is burrowed in what I can’t put down, when I can’t find what I’ve just said, please, hold your kindness like a mirror, so I can begin again. Tell me that, hard as it is to accept, the path is right where we are, when too exhausted to chase anything. Remind me that the angels we seek flutter within us, using our hands as their wings.
