child in fountain

I’m thinking about what we cover up.

I’m thinking about the pain we live above.

I’m thinking about the nice face we show the world that hides the scars and wounding and devastated places underneath. 

I’m thinking about what a difficult place the world can be for the children who get hurt and don’t know how to handle the pain or know where to look for support.

I’m thinking about how those same children don’t change inside, they just have grown-up bodies and responsibilities.

I’m thinking about the people who grow up and think that money or a new thing can heal their empty place.

I’m thinking about suffering that has no definition or language. 

I’m thinking about the ways we hurt each other and how we never could if we saw what birthed each action.

I’m thinking that the world would be different if we could pull back the veil and see the little scared person who sits at the controls, like Dorothy did in the Wizard of Oz.

I’m thinking about the millions of people who sit alone in their houses every night, who want to connect,  become more or find love, but have no idea how to do it and are too afraid or defeated to try. 

I’m thinking that it’s our job to grow a rose out of all the shit that gets piled on top of us every day, and to fertilize it with our willpower.

I’m thinking we must insist our rose grow just to spite the dark side.

I’m thinking that it’s our job to pull ourselves up from the muck and scream at the universe.

Not today, you can’t take me down today.

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