The most beautiful things I’ve ever given,

stitched in golden dust and lace,

I dug out from the emptiest place.

The silver holes within me, hang heavy somewhere deep between my  bones-

In nothingness, they foister, fierce and mighty ; a lacking, armored in stone .

The most meaningful things I’ve ever given,

Were the things I’ve always wanted, the things that never came to me,

The things that hurt me harder than I ever thought hurting hard could be.

I never dreamed of the love that lay a-shiver in the deepest part of soul,

I never dreamed of the strength stacked tower-high in the blackest hole.

But it was all there- in those wounds that I now know will never fully heal,

They- infinite giants, galaxies of lack, stubborn scars- are irresistibly real,

Real enough to stare down every greedy beast, and drive it to its knees-

Enough to strip down every barrier, to split hearts open, flow like the sea .

And all the laws we learnt of loss, and all the times we needed more,

Still sometimes creep in with autumn fog, and show up at the door,

But do not bar the windows, and do not shut your eyes-

No, invite them in for tea, and strike up conversation;

They are your weapons, and currency, and inspiration.

So,

find the spaces hurt within you, blow on some fairy dust, murmur an incantation,

And give them as a gift to someone else, housing holes of similar formation,

And know- it was you, with your vacancy and your pain, that gifted some restoration.

 

 

 

 

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