✨ WHAT SILENCE GAVE ME ✨

Last night, the bright moon
left its presence
on my windowsill.

I opened my hands.
Nothing fell into them.
But still, they were full.

Perhaps gratitude
begins like this ~
not with knowing
what we have been given,
but with the trembling recognition
that we have been given
anything at all.

This breath.
This body.

This astonishment of being here
in this incarnation, this body,
here and now.

Even sorrow has left gifts
at my door.

Some wrapped in endings.

Some wore the face
of someone leaving.

Some entered like winter
and stayed so long
I forgot the scent of rain.

I did not thank them then.
But time has strange hands.
It turns wounds toward the light.
It makes windows
where there once were walls.
And sometimes what once broke us
becomes the hollow through which
the sacred enters.

So today I am grateful
for what I understand,
and more grateful still
for what I do not.

For the invisible thread that
carried me through places
I could not see beyond.
For every mystery
that refused to explain itself.

For the heart that kept beating
while I was elsewhere.
For the earth holding me
without asking my name.
For this strange life
that keeps undressing me
of everything I thought I needed.

Until perhaps one day
there will be nothing left
but wonder.

The moon.
An open hand.
And the softest whisper
from somewhere I cannot name,
“You were never empty.”

And suddenly,
without really knowing
who I am thanking,
I bow.

✨ 🤍 ✨