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Love, Smallest Soul: To a faraway friend

Foreword: This is a little side series of letters from the heart. Some sent, some abstract articulations of  previous conversations that re-wrote themselves in my head, some letters I needed to write and to read back to myself, some things I never said but wanted to.

Dear Friend

How are you? 
How is the sky there? 
How full is your cup, how wide is your perspective, how happy is your heart? 
What's getting you up in the morning? What's keeping you awake at night?
How are the stars there? Do you think we have the same stars here? Do they burn brightly in the midnight sky? Do you stay awake to find out?
How dark is it really before dawn?

Dear friend, How is your inner child?
How softly do they speak, have you learned to listen yet?

How is the creativity that flows through your fingers, how is the spark of genius in your smile, how are the memories that lived stacked behind your eyes?

How is your mother?
And what of your father?

How are your dreams holding up in the war that reality wages on them?
How are the wolves of optimism and cynicism? (Which are you feeding more?)

How are your hands? Have you been using them to hold and mold and heal or hurt?
Have you been using them to gesture wildly as you always do?
Do they curl into cupped hands to catch what comes
or fists to fight or a finger to point?

How are your fears? Are you making friends with them? Are you letting them go, are you giving them company?

How are you though, really?
How fertile is the ground where you've been planting, how are those tiny seeds faring?
Have you found any green shoots springing forth yet? Have you been watering them?
How is the place you call home ( remembering that home is just a concept)
How safe is it there? How many are welcome, how large is the table, how many doors?

How is your faith, how high were the mountains you had to climb, how dark were the valleys?
How many times did you question it this week? How many times did you feel sure?
How is that uphill battle, how is that slippery slope? How firm is your footing, how weary are your wandering feet?

How is your breath? Does it still tremble when you hold back the words you know you are not meant to? Do all the things you never stay echo around in your mind, or did you find a way to silence them?
How is your voice? Is it sure as I remember it to be?

How many times did you say ‘I love you’ this week? And to whom?
Did you mean it when you said it? And if you didn’t do you think they know?

Love, Smallest Soul

1 comment

  1. Great work honey. Thought provoking and inspiring xoxo