What We Rarely Admit
First published on Carolyn Jones's Words In Bloom
Love asks that we risk being the one who reaches, being the one who names it, being the one who needs. What we rarely admit is this: love does not only want our hearts, it wants our hands. It wants us to show up as if the days matter, as if a life can be built from the honest repetition of choosing. Again. Again. Again. Not forever as a promise, but forever as a practice. And yes, it asks for the terrifying miracle: to let someone touch the parts of us we’ve been calling “unlovable,” and call them home.


Thank you for sharing my poem, @Maureen Susannah
Thank you for restacking this, @Nora O’Dowd