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.
SCHUYLERPlease come here, but not too close.
More Schuyler Quotes
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I’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
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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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People have been washed away by less. I’ll take every step gently. So often, you can’t tell the rush of a riptide until you’re already at sea.
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Please come here, but not too close.
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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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Hold 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.
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We’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.
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In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
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If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
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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 know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
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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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Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.
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This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
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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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