It’s about the long arcs
The curves over months, years
I do not tell my story in day to day
In week to week
I am always in a slow burn with myself
A thousand steps forward
Ten steps back
I am still ahead on the track
Forward is a familiar motion
Lurch, lurch, glide
Stop, fall, catch, lurch again
I have found that if I allow the imperfection
The mess, when I need it
I don’t fall quite as far
Perfection is a high pedestal
One misstep and your bones break
I like to live with the scars
They teach me to weave nets
That catch me on the way down
A safe place to rest
Then, inevitably, I climb again
With Love,
Natalie