And when she aches
she will know a world beyond herself.
Where thunder becomes her;
a raging fire, waiting to be.
How is this small softness
so wide with grief beyond the day!
How is this smile,
so often true,
suddenly drawn with a question mark?
They will know her pain
only as the tilt of an eye.
They will be forgiven by this one
before they see her sorrow there.
Always, they will be forgiven by this one.
Do not ask me to hate
the ‘broken’ ones.
I am a broken one
because I am human.
You are too. You are too.
Do not ask me
to turn my soul inside out
so I might fit into your mould
of unrelenting judgement.
I am my own self, and I will love them,
even if you will not.
Always,
I will love.
Do not tell them they are broken
compared to you.
They are broken differently to you.
They are human, like you.
They are human.
Like you.
I do not believe in seeking justice.
I believe in healing
and forgiveness.
I believe in walking
with humans
who are imperfect
like the rest of us.
Like the rest of us.
Imperfect.
Like the rest of us.
Like the rest of us.
The quiet moments when we see
we’ve been wrong.
They melt the ice of life
into sweet drifts of frost on wind.
I have been wrong
to my own heart,
often without knowing.
I have been wrong,
some days,
some days, it’s true.
Now I float in the mist
of a forgiving heart.
A forgiving heart
to soften the frost,
to sweeten the day around me.
This day.
A try a little, day,
I think.
This train.
It is a train that fights abuse
by abusing abusers,
and I do not understand it,
my heart.
It does not understand.
They tell me I must fight,
I must fight,
I must fight.
But I will not fight.
I will know myself,
I will love myself
(imperfectly)
and I will remember
I have the strength to shine
beyond it all.
And I will shine.
Above the train,
whenever I can,
alone,
if I must.
The beautiful stained glass
of this life.
Light and colour,
forgiveness of the shadow
in every stroke.
Hate is pain solidified.
Love
is the river
and the wind
to set it free.
open.spotify.com/track/6EPyl8kU0dPIgoLCIuh25F
It’s important to me at this time (and, in fact, forever and always) to shine a hope for peace and equality for all.
We are one.
And though this song sings an Australian story, I sing it to the world. Because I am me, I am not on any one side; to me there are no two sides.
Just one.
Humanity.
Today, we speak for our beautiful black lives: who matter now, and always have mattered. Tomorrow, perhaps we might speak for each and every life touched by the closed eyes (and heart) of intolerance.
For the less obvious among society who have been oppressed and eye rolled entire lifetimes long, often suffering in silence:
* the sensitives and empaths of the world.
* the quirky/odd ones.
* the wildlings.
* the nerds.
Mainstream society is very good at identifying the obvious marginalised groups and fighting for their inclusion and acceptance.
It’s time, though, to dig deeper by asking:
Who am I intolerant of?
And why?
Are they not human, also? Like me?
We are all worthy of being seen through neutral eyes, and we are all worthy of forgiveness and being held through our darkest days.
Embracing our individuality, and separating from the rigid judgements and expectations of mainstream culture, ironically, seems to be the way to remember we are one.
Being kind to ourselves, and our fellow humans as we work through our kinks, might also be a lovely thing.
So much love, my beautiful bloggy friends.
I’ll stop with my little bursts of unsolicited opinion, now, because I trust that everything in life happens for a reason. I trust that everyone finds the exact experiences they need in order to shine exactly the way they were always meant to.
Why, then, did I post this particular contradictory blog post?
Only the wind knows that, I suppose.
xx Your girl always, Brooke. xx
There is not a single person.
In this whole wide world.
Who will not respond favourably.
To empathy.
To ‘I know what you think you’ve done.
But that story is not you.’
There is not a single person.
Who will not respond.
To unconditional love.
That in itself is darling.
But the true darling of it all is this:
Love
can fix
it all.
Darling is
the choice to say
My love,
I love you anyway.
brooke-cutler.com 