In Our of Our Fragile Beings

I don’t desire to be known for my strength.
 Strong is not the hard part.
 Strong is what we do.
 We persevere.
 We hold our Selves up.
 We build walls to stop the floods that reign.
We rescue our Selves. Over and over and over again.

I want to be known for the softness of my being.
 For all the ways I have let me Self stay fragile.
 All the times I have let, what I thought was my Self, break apart.
 Shatter on the floor.
 Ready to be swept up by the wind and carried around the globe.
 Only to come back home.
 New and reformed.
 In the image of grandness that is hard to fathom.
 And even harder to see.
I want to be let myself be tender.
 And torn.
 Without the fear that I must somehow be more.
 More than I perceive my Self to be.
 I want to trust in the precious nature of who I am.
 To let my Self be seen.
 To drop the cloak and sing the Siren’s song.
 Beckoning my Self to meet all of life.
 
As she is.
 As I am.

I want to live on the edge of my skin.
 And deeply rooted in my Soul.
 I want the freedom that comes when the bow breaks.
 The armor, shed.
 And the breath, exhaled.