There will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.
SCHUYLERI’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
More Schuyler Quotes
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For 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.
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In a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
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I 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.
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Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
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I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
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Yes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
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Change is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
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I’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
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How 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.
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I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
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I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
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Please come here, but not too close.
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I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
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I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
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I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
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