I don’t like posting twice on the same day, but I really want to put this one up tonight.
You cannot be the source of someone’s happiness, peace and joy.
It is not your job.
And sometimes, we are told this from a very young age and all we know from thereon out, is that we need to keep the peace… we don’t learn that we can challenge opinions, and say ‘no’ to things that make us uncomfortable.
we become people pleasers with a skewed sense of love.
we think that we have to somehow earn the ‘i love you’s’ by being the source to people who don’t know where to find it themselves, or don’t want to find it themselves.
you are not a crutch.
you were a given a life.
go and live it!
With a grateful nod to Melissa T, for a line that I used in this poem.
let your failures leave you a better person, not a bitter person.
you are not alone in failing.
let the mistakes you have made—all of them—even the big ones, especially the big ones, leave you as one who will walk back to search for the one who needs help.
you are not the only one who has been lost.
everyone says let go of your failures—let go of your past. i say, all the things you wish you could undo in your life—those three am regrets? don’t let them go. hold onto them, but hold onto them loosely, so that you will always remember what it feels like to get it wrong.
because you are not the only one who has to fight off their past.
don’t let shame define you, but don’t forget the taste of it in your mouth.
give others what you needed when you were on your knees, with your back against the wall.
do this without any ulterior motive.
just be kind.
kindness, compassion and love like to get their hands dirty. they’re not ones for standing around looking holy.
so, take your hurts, take your memories, your failures and your regrets, and go out there and be a safe place for others and give them grace like it’s water.
you hold light in your hands and hope in your mouth.
and you might be the only one doing so.
this is how we change the world. this is how we save lives.
— thoughts on failure.
Photograph by Ander Burdain.
this is not my usual style, but things that need to be said.
did you know, she said, that i have been so hungry for so long, from birth, i think, that i have fed all the soft parts of me to a hundred, maybe more, and it is never enough when the light breaks, and i am never enough, and only one of us leaves with a full belly and it is never me.
it is never me who knows what it feels like to be enough, to be just right and not too much, or too little, and i don’t know how to get all my pieces back, how do i find myself again, and my heart needs them back, because these holes are too big now and the wind blows right through them, and late at night, when all those people are walking through my head with their hungry bellies and their dirty feet, i can’t sleep for the sound of the wind weeping through those holes, my holes, and right through me, and perhaps it is me, i don’t know anymore…
i am not afraid of your darkness or mine, and i have seen it all before, and my ears know the sound of fear all too well, and pain too, and i have walked this road in another life and even yesterday i stumbled over this same stone, and i can find my way out of here for both of us, and i see that you have run out of light? don’t worry—here, let me give you a bit of mine, and
i’ll just break a small piece off right here, and no—it doesn’t hurt at all, and it grows back so quickly and look! now you have some of me inside of you, and i think that means that we’re friends, and i see you, and you see me, and you are just what i have been searching for, come—let me show you the way out of here.