Each of us is living a story no one can see.
"every human you meet
is a story you entered
somewhere
in the middle."
We’re several chapters in before you enter.
The beginning was an ordinary miracle.
"the thing that happened."
Child bride, teenage mother, rookie marriage, broken* home.
(*except it wasn't)
Single breadwinner, traveling sales, hospice volunteer...
"the thing that happened."
Opening, unfolding, empty nest,
faith of my fathers passed away
women's way became my religion.
"the years it took to become"
Roots burrow into the soil, fragile shoots, tender sapling,
supple trunk gathering momentum, bearing scars,
reaching for the sky and beyond.
"who stands before you."
Without apology, in messy truth and humble dignity
"read gently."
Ever so gently, however....
"you do not have all the pages."
Someone's unknown story DOES NOT absolve them of wrong doing.
Seeking understanding does not mean condoning damaging behavior.
Causing harm must have consequences.
(As I write this, Mother Earth appears, sadly shaking her head.)
She knows she will survive our destruction.
She wonders if we will.
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