Bring me the thing from your darkest corner.
Put it at my feet.
I will not stomp on it in disgust.
I will not shriek.
I will crouch down and see the unborn potential of it, the greater self it wants to be, and I will stand up slowly (I don’t want to scare you or this naked shame).
I will look you in the eyes and say, “Thank you. You’ve shown me what you think is rotten, but all I see is what is ripe…you’ve given me the soft underbelly of your heart, and in return, I will give you a glimpse of mine.”
And when I believe you’ve heard me, I’ll kneel back down to this thing you fear is too ugly for anyone to see, I’ll gently scoop it up in my hands and whisper, “You are seen.”
For you, my friend, I’m willing to be hurt.
I am willing to witness and be witnessed in return.
I understand it might cause me pain.
I understand that there are times you might need to accuse me of things I don’t understand, simply because you showed me the password, the code, before you were ready to let anyone in to your heart’s home.
It will hurt.
I will mourn you.
But I trust that at the end of this great play, we will find one another again, and we will dance in one another’s arms. We will laugh. We will tell stories. We will thank one another.
For those that place these quiet and strange angels at my feet, I give you mine in return. I learn, day by day, that this is what succeeding at life means; we find the broken pieces we belong to. We rub against one another and sometimes we bleed. We discover what it means to be vulnerable.
It is humbling to realize that all that I am has nothing to do with me. I am the woman that I am because all of the souls that have chosen me.
Bring me your darkest corner. Tell me your greatest fears.
I will love you the more for it.
You don’t have to promise me anything.
I am here.
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