a poem for you this morning
to feel genuinely cared for,
and to care for.
to want to know and guard the broken and the inflamed and the tangled garden of nerves and the superstitious prayers that sit right under the surface of the world-lit skin.
to feel the not-for-show curiosity of an other’s voice as they softly inquire about how the cells are moving today, your misfit body, your moving-target state of mind, the accidental floods and in your hidden heart,
left the sink on, didn’t know.
to want to know,
and beyond wanting to know,
and beyond asking,
that, my love, is love.
p.s. if i had any more gratitude these days i’d be on my knees 24/7 unable to do the dishes. i read all your beautiful comments from the last post. everyone is shattered and exhausted. im working on the althing slowly but entertaining a house full of kids on holiday, deeply loved guests and in my absolute happy host place so everything is slow as snails. after that, the substack announce. i love you all so much.
also cross posted this here on instagram.