My love, don’t let your skin become so thick that nothing can hurt you anymore
getting wounded is part of the experience the scars you collect are all part of your story
take off your armor and give vulnerability a chance to paint your naked form feel the sunlight on your shoulders
let the wind move through your hair give your tears a chance to be counted allow us to be swept up in your smile you see,
my love,
you weren’t born to be hidden behind a towering wall you were formed out of an ancient whisper to become a natural wonder where we all visit to listen to the songbirds sing through the pines of your evergreen beauty you were given this skin to be kissed softly –
don’t let it grow scales you were given your eyes to reflect starlight –
don’t close them to keep us from seeing your soul you were given your hands to lace inside another hand don’t keep them constantly folded in your lap my love,
I know this world can be a sharpened spear that will often pierce you
but
when given a choice bleeding is always better than apathy
someday when we meet in the moving cosmic river that exists on the crawling fringe of everything
let’s take turns washing each other’s scars while saying the same prayer over and over
“I got this wound for caring and I got this one for having an open heart but that is the cost that comes from being a work of sacred art.”
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