Even the deepest wounds develop scar tissue.
That’s what day 12 of this war feels like to me.
I awoke with the thought that maybe I -and we- have healed enough to know for sure that we will make it through.
True, the wounds are still fresh.
We are still vulnerable.
We still have babies, kids, sisters, brothers, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, lovers, unaccounted for in the belly of the monsters.
We don’t know what’s become of them.
Terror is still a live wire running through the core of this land.
A minefield in our hearts and minds.
Even as we strengthen and heal.
We are vulnerable.
Even as new, fresh wounds still open every day.
This time demands us to hold opposites inside ourselves.
To be alert and calm.
To know vigilance and to know faith.
To delight in our children and cry for the ones we’ve lost.
To mourn and to heal.
Here’s to finding some quiet to gather our strength.
On the inside and the outside.
Here’s to a strong enough vessel to hold these polarities of being.
And most of all, here’s to sharing that strength when weve got it.