Gravity

Young girl filled with big dreams it’s fine to carry on, all grown even when you cannot do it alone.
There will be others just like you who’ve survived the awkward teenager years, pimples, bruises and broken hearts.
They’ll care enough to remind you how perfectly precious you are.
It’s okay to fall or fuck up; when you’re doing your best.
Life will get harder than you can manage, but none of us carries the burden or heavy lifting alone.
I’ll be right here to remind you to soar.
I’ll be your gravity when you’re down in the dumps, spiraling out of your comfort zone.
Silly girl, your dreams will become quieter with age but never less full.
All the colors are yours to suit your mood.
I love you colorblind, and the blackest of Neptune’s blues.
You are prettier than the atmosphere three billion light years forgotten from here.
I will whisper in your ear when you’re fast asleep to always, always care.
To emote, to feel, to share.
To gift away love.
I hope you always, always care more.
Never, ever less.
No matter the cost.
Or the climate.
There are no grand secrets to surviving tragedy; it’s okay to experience pain and fear.
I will be here to keep your feet planted and your arms outstretched towards the stars, while tears cascade down your cheeks.
There will be many joyful, magic moments to sustain you.
I promise.
Living is pretty even when it hurts.
You are loved because of your flaws; more than rainbows, puppies, unicorns and silly human things.
I am gravity and I am here to help you stay grounded to the earth.
You are the cosmic miracle of constellations and suns and moons colliding and exploding in the stratosphere.
You are the happy accidental human, dying since way before birth.

2 Replies to “Gravity”

  1. Thank you, Jackie. I’m weeping. The last lines are a knockout. In anxious times like now, one of my most helpful practices is bringing awareness to the soles of my feet and noticing how I am held and supported there. It came from a dream after my husband was diagnosed with cancer. It got me through the hardest moments and, 12 years later, I’m still in my feet.

    1. Thank you, Elaine.

      I am so happy and grateful for your touching and thought provoking comment.
      Your posts on love, loss and grief help so many and are so deeply moving.
      Your intuitive spirit is so strong. I can’t imagine the courage it took
      to care for your husband through cancer. I am moved and comforted by your dream, so cool!
      Grounding definitely takes lots of practice, keep sharing your story and stay connected to the earth.
      xx

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