Gardening

It’s true, yours is a heart that has persevered. That has gone round after round and still beats steady, true.

But it is not unscathed.

And your heart can’t take this.

You try.

Because it’s what you do. 

You rally. You survive. You endure. 

You break free and you flee, wild and broken, unsentimentally digging the seeds you planted out of the ground and planting them elsewhere. You start over. You bounce back. 

But you’re not built for this anymore. 

You are not young and you are not endless. You’re not bent, but you’re bruised. And that’s okay. You did nothing to invite being trampled underfoot. But you must be cautious anyway. 

Go where you are tended to. Where your roots receive water and sunshine and time to twine evergreen fingers into the earth. Give yourself seasons to stretch towards the sky, to blossom colorful petals. Find your corner of the earth and settle there- still wild but contented and cared for. Grow the way you’ve never been allowed to. And stay the way you’ve never known how to.

Because your heart can’t take this.

Not again.