AN ArT-iN-tHis

There’s an art in this,

a spectacular sight to see in your generosity.

This damned place you’re finding yourself revolving in.

You rely on others, blindly reaching out.

Exhausting your resources, you’re scouring the galaxies and across oceans for this reprieve,

arms reaching back.

Aim your arrows at lower ground.

Aim towards your roots and dig deeper.

There’s an art in this.

I promise you.

But you don’t see, no matter the times you’re reassured, your brilliance, your value in this place.

This place you loathe with all of yourself.

You don’t see that there’s art in this.

Your art, bringing arms across oceans and galaxies for hugs, cold and warm and covered in scars and bathed in rain.

You bring them to you across oceans in your place, your art in this.

With your words

With your hurt

With your reaching, you’re whole.

You’re brave.

You’re writing about being afraid of not reaching the latter, letting people remain blind like you are afraid you are too.

No, your eyes are clear.

Your heart is dear and warm.

You’re vulnerable and brave in your honesty.

Your art, bringing all these battered arms in,

hugging invisible bodies and warming our spirits.

Feather light and heavy hearted, your words, your love is a blanket needed now.

Let yourself see your art in this.

Let yourself see.

Let yourself.