Making Room

Today I will not punish them.

Today I will gather the rocks, which my sadness has worn smooth,

And make a garden path.

I will lead Sadness to the bank of a clear, calm pool and

Let it rest there.

I will welcome the fog of depression and let it decorate the

Leaves and spider's webs with drops of moisture.

I will dig a fire pit for rage, giving it a space to burn as it wishes.

I will sit with them, dance with them, sing with them,

Howl with them.

They will no longer be other, but instead, given a garden.

Given a space.

I will tend this space, and drink my coffee there.

The freedom it offers is tangible.

Joy is here too, of course.

Making welcomed appearances, when it

Dances in the light of the fire, glistening with droplets of fog,

Singing.