I guess we all try our best, really.
Our best to love, to live, to withstand the suffering that slips into our lungs.
That’s a girl, he said to me.
And in truth, whether we add to the suffering or relieve some, we are trying our best.
We can’t all be saints down here. From what I’ve read, it’s not a fun job anyway. Most of us would hate it.
You forgive me, I’ll forgive you, right?
If you hold on tight while I let go, we might fling this whole thing into the ocean.
Maybe everything that’s happened was supposed to happen. Or at least serves some greater purpose.
They say hardships are the pathway to peace. (But not when I’m caught on why.)
They can’t all be love songs, or maybe love is too big to fit into a tiny word.
Maybe love is both as small as the absence of malice and as wide as the sky.
The truth is both that I don’t really know yet and also that I am love.
I deserve peace. I deserve safety.
Lift me up