fault line
Our hearts are changed by loss. But what if we get to decide what that change looks like?
In some seasons, I find myself deep in the trenches of death work. It is equal parts honoring the fragility of this space and bowing (with deep reverence) to the solid, unknowable bits of it.
from what I can tell
woven between spaces
is a Mystery
that refuses to be named -
our hearts never remaining
permanently cracked
but instead growing blossoms
on a fault line