testimony
The hurt isn’t the enemy. The ache isn’t the antagonist. It’s the numbness. It’s the apathy. It’s the gray haze that leads to the disappearance of feeling.
“Give me any pain singing in colors of flesh”, Charity Whan says, give me all the pigments of rupture, and hunger, and throbbing, especially “if it reminds me I’m still living.”
Your armor is a coffin. Your walls are a sepulcher. Bear your wounds and scars unabashedly. Let your grief and longing stretch across the horizon in the bruised hues of a new day’s fire dawning.
The fracture isn’t failing. It’s the opening. It’s the evidence. It’s the proof. That you are still here. That you are brave enough to be. That you are still breathing and kicking and screaming. Refusing to be silent in the face of uncaring.
You are called to be exposed and vulnerable. To love the world with all you have within you. Not because it is safe or guaranteed. Not because it is easy or comfortable. But because it is dangerous. Because it is risky. Because it matters. Because it’s worth choosing. Because every heartbreak is a testament to the truth of your capacity for loving.
May you refuse the grayness.
May the fracture find you open.
May you be brave enough to feel everything.
In case no one’s told you today, I love you with all my everything.
As I read this, Leonard Cohen's song started playing in my head:
"There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in"
It took me a long time to understand these lines. I think I do now.
“Let your grief and longing stretch across the horizon in the bruised hues of a new day’s fire dawning.” Absolutely stunning.
Your words are paintings. For someone who thinks with vision, I always look forward to reading and seeing what you have to say. What a gift you get to hold.
I’m so glad you’re here.
I love you with all my everything.