Good day my friends! Another poem for you:
Seeing while Pretending
If we see walls of safety as a little softer,
and softer still,
they might be our cushions.
If we see the world's corners as a little rounder,
and rounder still,
they might be where we flow.
If we see the edges where we meet as a little blurry,
and blurrier still,
we might notice how they braid.
We might see how the dark root you call yours twists with the one I call mine,
so that we can't tell whose is whose,
because they were always both ours.
We might feel comfort in layers,
of bodies we didn't know we had,
at depths we didn't know existed.
We might hold our fragile branches together,
fingers intertwined,
underneath our seeming separateness.
This is to know we can be safe,
in the soft, round, and blurry,
while pretending the walls are hard, corners pointed, and edges sharp.
For me, this is one of the most important poems that has arrived. I am so curious about how it lands with others that I hesitate to write more about what it means to me. Suffice it to say, there just might be more available than we allow or are willing to see.