i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

things to not say,

things to say.

there is a strong desire in my heart to run,

away and away from the things that hurt,

from the things that are confusing and that don't make sense.

but if you hold the nettles tightly,

they stop stinging.

its just, the moment before the grasp,

you know the pain is there,

you know that if you hold on long enough, it'll go away...

but there's always going to be some sting.

how do i reconcile this?

dear God,

won't you touch all these hearts now?