a poem/prayer for those feeling outside of themselves
Say it with me: “I don’t know where I am or how I got this far away from where I wanted to go.” And. “Now isn’t the time to psychoanalyze every move I’ve made that got me here.”
hand over heart
Whatever got me here is irrelevant now. My heartbeat is the compass. The guiding beacon to lead me back to me/we/us. On my way home I can cry. Tears can stain the path. The truth is, I always know how to get back home. Even when the world’s a mess. I just have to put my hand over my heart and find the rhythm.