Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
SCHUYLERYour anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
SCHUYLERTake me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.
SCHUYLERI’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.
SCHUYLERHold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.
SCHUYLERI still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
SCHUYLERI’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
SCHUYLERI sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.
SCHUYLERThis does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
SCHUYLERFor now, I’ll bring what I can to my own four walls. I recognize the purpose, the promise of this: a church is made by its space, by its practices.
SCHUYLERI never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLERSome mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
SCHUYLERIf every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
SCHUYLERI’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
SCHUYLERHow radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
SCHUYLERIn a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
SCHUYLERI’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
SCHUYLER