Poetry for the day...




It’s this ache that stops you,
a first warning that humans are real—
there’s no saving from it.
Either you kill yourself with avoidance,
or, you surrender to it…
embracing vulnerability—
holding ground through the torrents
(that

Just.
Want.
To.
Prove.
Pain.
Exists.
Damn it.)

While bearing chest to God
trusting the great hope is truth,
and this, too, is already cleared up,
the storm, though heavy, is blowing off,
and soon, your heart will rest.
you will warm, and dry—

soon.
Real, real soon.