Birds are smarter than they look, you know. They used to say that about me. So you know that dream, the one you’ve been telling me about for years? Please fly away and go do it already. Because nobody else will ask you to, and the only person waiting is yourself. And when you do it, I hope it ...
Bang the drum for our sons and daughters, for husbands and wives, mothers and friends. Shout death’s name to a clueless world. Bang the drum loudly! Love in grief has a powerful rhythm. Bang the drum with courage and strength! Bang it loud filled with compassion! Bang the drum proudly!
To disappear didn’t necessarily mean to die or be ridden of life; it meant to live within its pockets, where no one could see me or disturb me. This was a place I could be airy, like a winged thing, hovering over all and seeing all.
I learned that this is what happens with hearts that need to be buried, and souls that have gotten too heavy and weary:
Know that she’s looking at times for a soft space to land; to let go without judgment, without being told she needs to be fixed. Without being asked what’s wrong. Without being condemned or looked down upon. Without being made to feel like she’s failed simply for showing another side of herself.
I will run for hope -- against emotional trauma, eating disorders, domestic violence, and for education. I will run for love.