The Only Thing
She Will Not Be Quiet: A (mostly unedited) daily writing practice
Day #138 of (mostly unedited) daily writing/sharing
The Only Thing
Maybe if we were taught that it's okay to cry, to tell the truth—not, I'm fine, but I'm hurting, if we were shown that true power is found in the softest sanctuaries of softness, in listening with the ears of our hearts, in naming everything holy— not mine, not yours, but ours. Maybe brutality would be replaced with nests of tenderness big enough to hold every bruised and breathing thing. Not one thing excluded. I am not sure about much, but of this I am sure— tenderness is the only thing that will save this tender, weeping world.
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When figures in high places have hearts that are gardens of concrete, I cherish your summoning us to build, to shape, to prepare and inhabit, nests of tenderness. Thank you, comme toujours.
I am so grateful for this tender poem, Julia. I love these lines especially:
"Maybe brutality would be replaced with nests
of tenderness big enough to hold every
bruised and breathing thing."