I see you.
The parts you proudly show off and the parts you hide deep inside locked tight with fumbling hands and a frantic heart. The bits you trot out for amusement and that which you desperately wish to be swallowed into infinity. I see you desperately stamping down that which makes your heart burn, so afraid to be seen walking in your light.
You play small, praying to hide amongst the unseen. You paint yourself in muted shades of grey unaware that each coat reveals more of your difference, more of your glory. You fear being seen by those who might not accept, might not honour that this is your truth.
And yes, they might laugh if you go soft, if you go deep and raw and vulnerable. They might jeer as you break and mend a thousand times over. They might never understand the path you tread as you make your way back to yourself.
You must forgive them. This gift, your light, is not for them. It is for you.
It is for those whose hearts you hear calling yours so softly every night.
It is for those who go deep and dark and soft as they do the work to come home to themselves.
It is for those who surrender, allowing grace to carry them when they can no longer bear the weight alone.
I am here to tell you that no matter how hard you wish this torch had not been given to you, how much you rage and wild and hurricane against your light, how far you travel away from your heart, that it will drag you home every. single. night.
And gods forbid the soul that does not surrender.
I see you.
All of you.
And you’re on fire.