Stories Return Us Home

Stories Return Us Home

If I could write a tomorrow, 

it would be wider than but include the wounds we have worn… 

it would include my wounds, 

it would announce my wounds, 

it would put my wounds on display so that others too 

could include, announce and 

display their wounds,

as we move into tomorrow.


If I could write of a tomorrow, 

it would have less denial, less hiding, less pretending… 

By naming and sharing our wounds, 

we would weave something so bountifully amazing, 

taking us wider than the wounds we have ever worn.


If I could write a tomorrow, 

I would use my wounds 

and all that I have learned, 

to springboard into creating a world where 

community and connection is paramount, 

from birth to death, 

woven into the very ways we value the 

ways we spend our days

and deeper into the way we view 

our very selves. 


If I could write a tomorrow, 

humans would not be commodities 

or things. 

Worth would not be earned but known.

Sharing would be common place and 

love would be given, 

not bought or sold in the guise of 

consumerism and exploitive capitalism. 


This may be my soap box, but it doesn’t feel like an 

impossible dream. 

When I 

slow down 

and 

take a look 

towards pain and suffering.


I look at it in the eye, 

feel pain burrow into the 

caverns of my heart. 

As I do 

something widens 

and deepens. 

Something called Love


takes it all, 

filling me with a sweetness of now that 

exists at the very same time as 

sorrow, sometimes in the very same place. 

Reminding me another way is 

indeed possible.


I write of another way…

where we know and 

live knowing that, 

in our shared plight of 

being human,

there is Love.

The joy, mystery, pain, and 

beauty of 

being human.  


I write of 

lessons  

being learned from the 

wounds of yesterday.

Creating an amazing 

tomorrow to be a part of. 

I commit


to staying with 

these wounds, honoring these wounds, 

taking responsibility for these wounds, 

and the wounds that my foremothers and forefathers 

were born from,

have created,

which birthed me

and which I have birthed.


I write of a now, 

inviting all to share 

unique dreams and unique pains. 

To share without needing to fix or problem solve

but to celebrate.

A recognition that each 

story is sacred and powerful 

as we return Home. 

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