sometimes it’s the kiln.
sometimes it’s cutting away old growths to make way
for new buds. new blossoms.
sometimes it’s love sowing closed the places we’ve been torn.
sometimes it’s jumping into the ocean of our heart
and asking saltwater to show us the wounds
we didn’t know were there.

but it’s always healing. always growing.
always the light burrowed in our hearts
underneath the skin and scars
the muscles and tendons
blood vessels and tissues
and deeper than the marrow in our bones.
always the light, calling.
calling us to softness.
to redemption.
to home.

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