Sacred Places. Tender Hearts.

Writing for me comes in waves. It always has. Perhaps it always will. Life comes in waves. Happiness. Luck. Fear. Love. Ebb. Flow. Knowing this, it makes sense that writing follows suit and waves over me. This is one of the magic parts of life along with one of the curses. Blessed with inner dialogue cursed with sudden silence. This is one of the moments in my life when words wash over me. This is one of the moments I hold on and listen to the voice in my mind. The voice that whispers secrets of where I have been and where I crave to go in the future.

The waves lately come with new ideas and old feelings. Feelings of seeking and being found. Of being broken. Being healed. In these moments I find myself. Hidden on shelves tucked away under dust holding what I loved as a child. My chin, my cheek, my very true and simple belief in love. 

Seekers look around. Seekers look for one another. A seeker told me this once. I look to find him again. In this world or the next. I could really use his voice here. His Direction. Seeker- I'm seeking you out here. I only have one of your notes, one of your shoes, and a few prayer matches left from your time here on this planet. It isn't much to hang on to.

I have you here in my heart, here talking to me as I write. I see my fingers go as fast as they can to keep up with you. I could use some wisdom of yours in this heart of mine. Door wide open, heart shakey with anticipation. Next move, yours. My move- waiting. 

Sacred places on this planet seem abundant to many. But scarce for me. I look with want and wait and patience. I try to see the sacred moments through the shadows of the lucky. I grasp for what I know- seek when I am able. And love you more each day. I hope my life makes you proud. Maybe you can see some of the ways you molded me, even though I was just a child when you left. Even though I didn't recognize you the last time I told you standing. Even though I voted to turn off the machines. I hope you know that I love and miss you. Even if I didn't say it much when you were living. You should have heard it more from my voice. For this, I am eternally sorry.

It would be so wonderful to feel your hand on my shoulder. Just a little push in the direction that is right. Because I am walking in a circle of lefts. I'll keep my small box of things you touched close to my bed and hope I see you again in my dreams. I hope I hear your voice telling me I am doing alright. That I make you proud. Because I have nowhere to talk with you but here. Nowhere but here can I find you. And I miss you so terribly. Tell me what you think of this life of mine, please. Tell me I am still precious to you and that this heart and yours are still linked. Even where you are now- everywhere all at once.