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Poetry

love is

Love is the wildest the best. The gentlest. The mess.

It’s not all blooming light and laughter and

like

those dusty sunsets

Where you’re excited for tomorrow and your heart feels at rest.

It is the quiet cracks and unknown corners of boxes you must unpack

it can be battered and beautiful, breaking open enough to let the light touch

The places that need healed or held

this unruly unfurling, this wild welding:

Love is being held in heavy grace, lifted and set gently in a place

so safe, so carefully created and delicately rooted, that the winds can’t collapse and words can’t erase

This home: this story of each other’s safe place.

Love is not always as we see it but if we try we can free it, in the gentle and the dark, the upending and the hard. lay your path as you embark and endeavor, take hope and give light as you leave and remember

What it felt like to first love the other.

may your story be strong and your life, a song

lit up with love and might, your tiny home full of grace laced quiet and gentle light, hot tea on chilled nights and a peace so big and so wide

It seeps out to the world, so perfect and so right.

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by sadie_hope

mountain mama navigating life after loss, home after hope and dreams after drought.


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