I’m listening.
Thank you for trusting me.
How do you feel, right now?
If you ever… would you tell me first? Promise?
Do you want tea? Cookies? A listening ear? A hug? A poem?
Do you want happiness?
Do you want silence?
Do you want one ear cocked towards you but all eyes averted?
Do you want nothing more than an occasional nod?
Do you want a deep and infinite abyss into which to drop
your thoughts?
Do you want every word that has ever been written?
Do you want the words that haven’t?
I will write you joy, I will write your soul into happiness.
Do you want William Stafford’s thread and Mary Oliver’s
forgiveness and David Whyte’s sweet darkness? I will read them all to you.
Do you want hordes of fiery letters, burning away the
darkness?
Do you want oceans of cleansing words, washing away whatever
stains your soul?
Do you want me to stand with a sword between you and your
demons?
Do you want an army of caring to shield you from pain?
Do you want your nightmares unraveled and woven into dreams?
No, that is what I want.
Whatever you want, you must give it to yourself.
Whatever your soul, only you can write it.
Whatever your dreams, only you can shape them.
You have every potential and every word and every silence
within you already.
You are exquisitely powerful.
In the meantime,
I have here, for you,
Tea.
A cookie.
A listening ear.
A hug.
A poem.
A poem.
