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Writer's pictureAmy Howton

holding


can we hold ourselves

and one another

without condition?

with a knowing

that we belong

just as we are,

now?

and that the questions

and cracks and stumblings,

where mundane dances with magical,

and love bleeds into hurt

and companionship dissolves into loneliness

is where we find ourselves,

hidden–

there all along.

waiting and ready,

arms wide open.

can we hold ourselves

and one another

without condition?

with a knowing

that we belong

just as we are,

now?

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