I'm beginning to believe that there is no wound that love cannot heal, no doubt it can't chase away. The more I reach out and invite it in, the stronger my steps as I walk through fear, or all the way out of its territory. Love makes me brave as it weaves a net below to catch me. It tells me I don't have to go it alone. I can have my hand held in the scary places, and I can have dancing partners when it's time to climb up on the furniture and celebrate.
Those who love me catch my tears in their palms. They kiss my forehead. And then they hand me my pen.