The Gift

 

Presenting a gift of compassion, ready to be opened with gentle curiosity. 

 

Denial of existence doesn’t change what is.

Perhaps acceptance and tenderness may coax it from the corner, where it cowers in shame and judgment.

An open palm, a show of mercy, eyes filled with genuine nudging. 

 

Tugging on the strings that bind the gift, encouraging them to loosen and reveal.

To sever them too quickly, to force the knotted loops, would leave them scattered in pieces, unable to securely hold another gift, then another. 

 

Wrapped within inner arms of mercy, blanketed with the safety of hope and intention, the strings release and the gift awaits with calm patience, the edges glowing in anticipation of being revealed. 

 

I surround myself with knowing awareness, hold my heart with the power of self, grasp the corners of fear, and lift the lid.

The loneliness is no longer alone, for within the borders of loving containment, waiting to be seen, embraced, held, and understood, is me.