april 6 swv
I wrote a poem during the pandemic and every time I read it or think about it I think about how lucky we all are to be here at all. Even on the bad days. Even on the really bad days. The days we want to die because it hurts so much. Those days are some of the best days, but you don't know that when they're happening. When they're happening everything slows down and sharpens to a point and that point gets rammed right into your fucking eye. Those days suck while they're happening but they exist to make us realize how lucky we all are to be here at all.
I used to think those really bad days were a test. And they are. But they're also more. For a while I thought the test was the point. And it is. But it's not the only point. And it is. But it's not the only point. I used to think it was about winning the game. And it is. But it's also about knowing when the point isn't winning, and as such, sometimes the test is about whether you know how to lose. That may sound cryptic but I promise you it's not. The gist is simply that life is one thing and then it's something else in the same moment. Salvation and destruction are different sides of the same coin.
I have had my fair share of those days. They used to make me harder, more impenetrable. Now they make me softer, more open, more universal. I'm not scared of them anymore. I stopped being scared of them the moment I stopped pretending to be something I wasn't. Someone I wasn't.
🌲 gonna
🌼 go
🌱 touch
🌳 grass sleep
🌷 now
Be good to yourself.
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