Safe.

Safe Place?

What is it?  Where is it?  Does it really exist?

Yes.

It lives, not in the grand and spectacular – but in simplistic and still.

It resides in the quiet places – the smallest streams of the soul.

It reveals itself in the whispers of mercy and care:

That whispered hug that says, “You’re safe with me.”

And when it is unearthed, I remember.

I remember and rest in the knowledge that it’s all okay.

It’s okay to just be – and to not be pretty, or graceful, or charming, or great…but just to be.

This is my safe place, my place to be – or not to be. My place to be…me.

-A. L. B.

 

3 thoughts on “Safe.

  1. Bless you. I tried to wait until “Happy Wednesday” was over, but when it hits me, it hits me…if you know what I mean, and it’s just better for me to get it out. Poetry is kind of like a “condition” – and I’m always in recovery. Have a peaceful day. Angie.

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