I am and always have been soft and slow.
I absorb so much that I have built callouses.
When I shed them, I am scared and beautiful and the bursts of light come out with greater ease and curiosity.
I have found my way through dis-ease and I wish to open the path for others. But must also hold space for multiple paths. One thing at a time. One choice, one try. One step. Step, lift, forward. Step, lift.
I worried I had one chance. Yes, I have a whole life.
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the (w)Hole
searching rest in movement, I waste myself, afloat carrying and being carried forceful, yielding a soluble state of being availability of moving and being moved letting go carried away bent by what escapes me inhabiting contradictory forces, I find myself in between.