← Back Published on

When i heard // when I was saved

Everything became an offering towards the taking away of the pain. And so became precious and so saved me, not so much because it did, but because it had to. 

For the first time, I noticed how we keep ourselves. The bed sheets, the chewing of dinner  if quickened would knock me sick, So I folded slowly, swallowed manually. Lifted my diaphragm with puppet strings.

 I felt every drop of water from the showerhead, looked at my hands, I walked that circuit round the woods like a retired greyhound.

 I did a lot of looking, a lot of things became very important.

Other things less so; a lot of what I planned to say surrendered into sighs. 

A child reaches for your hand and you let yourself be saved. 

For the first time you think: this place will keep me alive.