To Be This Soft
A poem
Let me tell you how it feels to be this soft — like a scraped knee that has yet to heal, open, wounded, and raw. It feels like knowing that everyone that you meet was once someone else’s baby, cooing and giggling and needing love — and you hold hope in your heart that the world meets them with that same kind of tenderness. It feels like crying during weddings. And baby showers. And when you see two strangers getting engaged in a public place. It feels like remembering what you wished for on your birthday cake as a kid and wanting the whole world to feel that optimism. It’s believing that everyone is good inside. It’s wanting to show everyone the good that they choose not to see. It’s falling in love with a song. A book. A poem. A play. A person who makes the ordinary feel like poetry. It’s trying to scoop up all the broken pieces of this world and piece them back together to create something even more beautiful. It’s tuning out the chatter that says this softness is something to try and shed, and instead, remember that it is a gift.
