The skin she's in

I have found the warm caves in the woods,    filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,    closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:    whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by,    learning the last bright routes, survivor    where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.    A woman like that is not ashamed to die.    I have been her kind.

And it is okay if it does not feel like it. It is okay if there are moments where you cannot see the way you have grown, because far beneath the surface the seeds have still been sown. The ground beneath your feet is still a bed for new beginnings.

So much is changing around you  but you are changing, too.

You are so much more than the brokenness that you were certain would define you.

It has not been easy for you. You have worked so hard to be the positive one. You have given your best in areas of your life where the effort was not returned.  And this has made it so hard for you to keep going, and there have been days where you were not sure if it was even possible. But after everything, here you are, just a little stronger, holding on a little longer, and you still found room for hope. 

So take heart breathe deep you are still becoming who you were meant to be.

Let July be July. Let August be August. And let yourself 

just be even in the uncertainty. You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have solve everything. And you can still find peace and grow in the wild of changing things.

penso che forse è buono che cadano da me tutti gli alberi –

ch’io sia un piazzale bianco deserto alla tua voce – che forse disegna i viali per il nuovo giardino.