My eyes remain slits today. Last night, I laid there while my house tiger snored peacefully. I heard the house’s footsteps walking in the bright moonlight. Meanwhile I paced in my mind. I touched the lip of a leaf kissing the branches of autumn’s chill. I wrapped silken moonbeams and sought a sentry to help distill my unease. I slipped deeper to find several sources of my unrest; I’m still combing through the tedious knots.
What is prevalent in my words are Love vs. Shame.
Shame drinks our bone marrow and the silence of our secrets can kill. The innocent are unseen in the shadows; relentlessly diminished and cursed and labeled. It’s difficult to shed the labels and to be seen for our true worth. I will stand next to and walk with the unheard.
I believe love is an action; it is intelligent and kind. Love is respectful; it doesn’t shame. Love sees us in all of our imperfections; it is a crucible of give and take. It also listens when we say, “No!” In the space of love, our boundaries are finally heard.